I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here
by castielthebabyinatrenchcoat
Summary: Castiel Novak is depressed. That's what they tell him, anyway. Opal Grove is supposed to fix him. Only, he doesn't think that's possible. Or maybe he just doesn't care anymore. That is until he meets Dean Winchester, his counselor's gorgeous son, and begins to wonder if maybe there is a point to all of this.
1. Chapter 1

Castiel dumps his rucksack between the two armchairs facing Mary's desk, trying not to contemplate the emptiness of that second chair too much, and lets his body sink into the cushion. You might think him rude for calling his counsellor by her first name, but it's all part of the 'thing' they have going on. It's supposed to make him feel more at ease or something like that. It doesn't really have the desired effect, but he lets her and all the other staff members at Opal Grove believe it _does_ for the sake of blending in. He doesn't want to be the only kid who insists on calling his counsellor Mrs. Winchester. Being new here already makes him stick out like a sore thumb, when all he wants to do is disappear into the peeling wallpaper and forget he exists.

"So, Castiel," Mary hops backwards onto the edge of her desk - because sitting in the chair like a regular person would be way too formal - and folds her hands into her lap. "How's your first week going?"

Castiel shrugs. "Fine, I guess."

"You guess? Doesn't sound too convincing, does it?"

"I don't know. _Does_ it?"

Mary narrows her eyes and shifts her right leg over her left, shrugging a little. "Well, I was hoping for a more enthusiastic response, I'm not gonna lie. Have you made any friends yet?"

He wants to roll his eyes, because being shoved into the same building and being forced to make small talk with a bunch of other nutjobs hardly counts as 'making friends', but he doesn't. Instead, he fiddles with a loose thread on the arm of his chair and shrugs again.

"I met a few. Jo was the first person who talked to me. Then there's Charlie and Kevin… They're okay."

"Why don't you tell me a bit about them?"

"There's not much to tell," Castiel says a little impatiently. He doesn't mean to act like an asshole teenager, but everything about this situation feels like it's been plucked directly from an angsty YA novel his sister, Anna, undoubtedly has on her shelf.

Mary isn't easily deterred. That's probably why she got this job.

"How do you like Jo?"

"She's okay," He feels like he's repeating himself. He most definitely is. "I mean, she doesn't really talk to me per se. She plays guitar a lot. And sings."

"To you?"

"To everyone. She's trying to make an album, apparently."

"Well, that's exciting."

"I suppose."

Mary nods her head slowly, as if he just said something ground-breaking, and slides off the desk to grab something from her drawers.

"You're here for three months," She says matter-of-factly, like he's not already counting down the minutes in his head as they speak. "And during your stay here, we're gonna be seeing a lot of each other. I'd like you to do a little something for me. An exercise, if you like."

"I don't exercise much."

Mary smiles wryly, the way people do after he's said something unintentionally funny. Then she's handing him a black, leather-bound journal. It's probably faux leather. It smells like chemicals.

"I want you to keep a diary of your time at Opal Grove," She explains as he flicks through the blank pages. "You can write about anything you like."

He closes the journal softly and cracks his knuckles. "Why do I have to do this?"

"I'm not saying you _have_ to, Castiel. But keeping a diary can be a very rewarding experience."

"I... I don't want to."

"That's fine," She smiles, not missing a beat. "Why don't you take it just in case? Maybe you'll change your mind."

He bites back the 'no' dying to come out and clenches his jaw, sliding the journal into one of the inside pockets of his trenchcoat. Well, it's not really _his_ , but it may as well be now. It's not as if his father is bound to come back after eight years to reclaim his old coat, especially considering Castiel's been wearing the damn thing practically every day since his dad ran out him. Ran out on _them_. Sometimes he forgets he has a family back home, probably because he's never really felt a part of it.

"Okay," Mary's smile softens a little, which almost makes him want to throw the journal on the floor out of spite. He doesn't want to upset her, but he really hates it when people smile at him in that way - like he's finally on the road to recovery. He's never going to recover. When will they realize that?

"Is… Is that it? Are we done?"

"I think that's more than enough for today," Mary walks around her desk to take a seat in the dark red recliner leaning against the window. "I just wanted to make sure things were going okay. Seems like you're adjusting very well, which is great."

He bobs his head a little awkwardly. He sure as hell doesn't feel great, but Mary doesn't need to know that. As long as she believes that everything is fine, then he might have a chance of getting out early.

"Oh, and Castiel?" She asks as he heads for the door. "If you _do_ change your mind about the journal, bring it to our next session, will you?"

"Sure," He says, because what else can he say?

Walking back to his room is always unpredictable. He braces himself for Jo to pop around the corner with her guitar and force him to listen to yet another song about being dark and messed up inside, or to find Kevin squatting on the floor, collecting bits of dust and lint from the cracks in the boards. All he really wants to do is collapse onto his bed - preferably his bed at home, but we can't always have what we want - and forget about the stupid journal and Mary's stupid smile. He's fully prepared to punch anyone who tries to keep him away from pursuing said desire. Using his fists is always a last resort, but he's really not in the mood for taking anyone's crap right now. Sleep and anger are weighing heavy in his mind, and he just wants to forget.

He's so close to his room, he can practically smell the dusky scent of mothballs clinging to his pillow. In fact, he's _so_ engrossed in reaching the door that he doesn't even notice another body heading his way - not until it clashes into his and sends them both flying.

" _Fuck_ ," The other boy mutters as he picks himself off the ground, dusting off his jacket (which is a bit of an overreaction Castiel thinks, considering the floor is pretty much spotless at the moment). "You wanna try lookin' where you're goin' in the future, buddy?"

He opens his mouth to speak, but he finds himself distracted by the startling green of the stranger's eyes. He has freckles, too, arching over his bulky nose and strong jaw.

"Yo! Earth to weird guy," There's suddenly fingers snapping in his face. He blinks up at the handsome stranger hovering over him, and faintly realizes that he's still on the floor. Thick fingers soon wrap around his forearm though, lifting him to his feet with ease.

"Thank you," He breathes, a little dazed by the shade of those eyes up close.

It's not news to Castiel that he's attracted to men; that's partly why he's in here in the first place. But never has he seen a boy so beautiful - and yes, that really _is_ the only fitting word to describe him. It's such a shock to the system, _witnessing_ such beauty, that he almost forgets how to breathe. The air sort of punches out of his lungs like a burst balloon, and then he's hunched over with his hands on his knees, trying to suck in as much as the stuff as humanely possible.

"Woah, woah, woah," The boy grasps his shoulders tightly. "Hey. You good, man? You want me to go fetch a nurse or something?"

Castiel straightens up in an instant, eyes wide. "No! Um… No. No, thank you."

"You sure? Cos I could just -"

"No, I'm fine! Honestly, I… You just surprised me, is all."

The boy scoffs. " _I_ surprised _you_? Says the guy who came runnin' round the corner like the frickin' devil was chasin' him."

"I can assure you, he wasn't," Castiel squirms out of his touch, willing down the blush threatening to reach his ears. "I'm sorry for running into you like that. I'm just tired. I wanted to get to my room."

"Uh, yeah. No problem, man. Don't sweat it."

He goes to turn around, but the handsome stranger keeps on talking.

"You new here or something? I've haven't see you around before."

"First week," Castiel says with a nod. "I'm still getting used to everything. It's strange, living somewhere that isn't home. It doesn't feel quite right."

The boy hums, then thrusts out his hand. "Name's Dean, by the way. I'm not a resident, I'm just waitin' for my mom to get off work. She's a counsellor here."

He doesn't even have to ask who. He can see bits of Mary staring back at him as they speak.

"I'm Castiel," He takes the proffered hand, albeit cautiously. "I _am_ a resident unfortunately."

"What you in for?"

"Stuff," He says rather ominously, because he doesn't feel comfortable answering such a forward question from a complete stranger.

Dean raises his brows a little. "Damn… Are you a serial killer or something?"

"Or something," Castiel echoes.

They stand in the middle of the corridor, staring each other down like cowboys ready to draw their pistols on either end of the town. Dean seems to find something he likes, because a smile tugs at his lips and he nods approvingly, finally breaking eye contact to take a cigarette from out of his pocket.

"Shh... Don't tell on me," He presses a finger to his mouth and _winks_ , the asshole. "M'not supposed to smoke, ya know? It's gonna send me to an early grave, yadda, yadda…"

"Well, that _is_ very true."

"Yeah, I know. Doesn't make it any easier to stop though."

"You better take it outside," Castiel says, trying to ignore the way those plump lips wrap around the cigarette.

Dean scoffs. "Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. M'not a _complete_ idiot, ya know?"

He works the cigarette to the corner of his mouth and bends his spine backwards, sighing at the series of crunches that signals the crack of his bones. Castiel can hardly judge a habit of his own. Besides, there's something very appealing about watching Dean flex his body like so. It makes him feel all hot and tingly. He even has to pull at the collar of his shirt like they do in old comedies to cool down.

Dean reaches forward to pat him on the shoulder. "Be seein' ya, Cas."

He watches the boy disappear down the hallway, then grabs the journal from his inside pocket and opens it a couple pages in. He's also the kind of person who keeps pens in his coat as well, which is rather practical. Whatever this is bubbling up inside of him, it can't wait until he gets inside his room and locks the door. He simply leans the journal against the wall and scribbles in the first thing that comes to mind.

 _Dear Diary,_

 _I think I'm going to like it here after all._


	2. Chapter 2

Jo comes to visit him most days. She brings her guitar (of course) and sometimes a friend. Usually Kevin. But today, she's brought Charlie for a change. Castiel likes Charlie, mainly because she's one of the sanest people in this place. She doesn't stare at you like Jo does, or collect bits of rubbish and store them in her drawers like Kevin does. The only thing that justifies her being here is the way she sometimes goes off on tangent, like she's slipped into a different world or something. Her eyes glaze over and she has this weirdly distant kind of smile on her face, and she'll talk about anything from books, to holidays, to the baby robin she once nursed back to health outside the hospital where her mom was staying. Castiel used to be polite and listen, but then Bobby told him that it doesn't matter, that Charlie probably doesn't even realize he's there anymore. Now, he just lets her get on with it.

Bobby is the guy who runs Opal Grove. He's this gruff, burly kind of man with a bit of greying scruff and a beaten old baseball cap he always wears on his head. Castiel wouldn't have guessed he was in charge unless Jo told him. She said the residents call him the warden, like something out of a prison show. Castiel doesn't like the idea of associating Opal Grove with a prison, so he sticks to calling him Bobby. Everyone around here likes being called by their first name. It reminds him of those hip kind of teachers who try to be your friend, but just end up looking sad and pathetic as they try to act chummy with the class.

He's sitting on the end of his bed with Charlie, patiently waiting while Jo tunes her guitar. She curses a few times when she can't seem to get it right, but eventually, she tosses her blonde waves over her shoulder and starts to play. The notes are soft and delicate, but she's singing about being trapped in a bottle that's rocking on the waves of a stormy ocean. Castiel can't help but notice the tear that slips down her cheek as she loops back to the first verse. Jo always gets emotional when she plays, like she genuinely feels every word and every note. Castiel kind of wishes he was that passionate about something, but the closest he ever got to having a hobby was when his mother taught him how to bake. He was never very good at it - his cakes were always a little too dry - but he enjoyed the gamble off adding this and that into the mixture, never knowing what you were going to end up with. His mother stopped baking soon after his father left them. She was never the same after that.

"She's really pretty," Charlie says in a dreamy voice as she watches Jo play.

Castiel hums. "Yeah. I suppose she is."

"I wish I could have a girlfriend like her. That'd be awesome."

"You like girls," Castiel says like an idiot, because obviously Charlie likes girls. While else would she say something like that?

But Charlie doesn't seem to mind. She just leans back on her hands and smiles, tilting her head to get a better view.

"Yeah. I do."

Castiel pretends to listen to Jo's next song - something about a girl who feels like a wad of gum wedged beneath someone's boot - but he can't ignore the sudden thumping of his heart. He glances back at Charlie, then shrugs his shoulders, like this isn't the first time he's told anyone this before.

"I like boys."

Charlie smiles a little. "We're both hella gay then."

He thinks back to the other day, when he knocked Dean over in the hallway, and feels his cheeks warm slightly. There was something so hypnotic about the hue of his eyes, and the way his cigarette dangled effortlessly out of his mouth. He was like a real-life Danny Zuko, without the funny hair. He's never watched Grease before, but Anna had a poster of the T-Birds hanging on her wall. Their mom bought the movie for Christmas, and she watched it on repeat for three weeks straight. Castiel misses his sister.

"I haven't told anyone else," He says.

Charlie bumps their shoulders together and gives him another smile. "That's okay. I'll keep your secret, Castiel."

They both prop themselves up against the headboard with plenty of pillows and listen to Jo play her guitar until lunchtime. Castiel drifts off to sleep at one point, comforted by the warmth of Charlie's arm draped over his chest. When Bobby comes in to fetch them all, Jo asks him if she can hold a concert for everyone in the hall, to which he reluctantly agrees. She can't perform the one about the monkey slicing his wrists with bananas though. That one's inappropriate.

* * *

Castiel sits in the other chair this time, just to shake things up a little bit. Mary still takes her seat on the edge of her desk though. He wants to warn her about ripping her tights, but he thinks maybe that would be rude. Helpful, but rude.

"I brought the journal," He says to break the silence.

If Mary's surprised, she hides it very well.

"That's great," She smiles. "Write anything interesting in it?"

He shrugs. He's not sure what's deemed interesting in her line of work. She's probably seen teenagers swallow batteries before, so him describing Jo's concert in sparse amount of detail probably seems a little dull.

"Am I allowed to have a look? Would that be okay?"

"I suppose so," He hands her the journal tentatively. He hasn't told her about Dean yet; he's worried that talking to him might be a breach of confidentiality or something.

"Well, that's interesting," She says almost immediately after opening the journal.

Castiel stiffens. "What's interesting?"

"Your first entry," She clarifies, and Castiel can feel himself sinking deeper and deeper into the chair, hoping the cushion will swallow him whole. "You said 'I think I'm going to like it here after all'. What does that mean?"

It means your son is absolutely gorgeous.

"Nothing," He says tightly. "I mean, I… I suppose I've made a lot of friends here. It's not so bad anymore."

"Like Charlie and Jo?"

"Yeah."

"You went to Jo's concert last night," Mary thankfully changes the subject. Kind of. "That's really good, Castiel. I'm glad you're getting involved with activities."

He shrinks away from the unwanted praise. It's not like he did anything to deserve it anyway. Jo did all of the hard work. All he did was show up and help Kevin thread some beads in the back of the room. Charlie was too busy watching Jo and trying to cheer louder than anyone else in the audience. He doesn't want to tell her he saw Jo leaving Michael's room after hours the other day. There's no point in breaking her heart.

"Jo's a good singer," He says with a shrug. "I hope she makes that album of hers."

Mary closes the journal and places it in her lap. She's got that strange expression on her face again, the one that means he's said something important. He's not sure how this whole therapy thing works (though apparently, therapy and counselling are slightly different), but he has no idea how Mary seems to overanalyse every little thing he says and turn it into something it's not. Going to Jo's concert was not a big step. Everyone was there. He just doesn't want to draw attention to himself by hanging away from the crowd.

"I'm glad you gave the diary a chance," Mary says after a moment of awkward silence. "You don't have to feel embarrassed about keeping one. It really will help. I promise."

Don't keep promises you can't keep.

"Okay," He says with a shrug. "Thank you, I guess."

"You're very welcome."

Outside the window behind Mary's desk, Castiel can see the rain-streaked sky above the parking lot. They don't get much rain here, so it's always a relief when it comes. He remembers how he and Anna used to charge outside in nothing but their underwear whenever it started pouring it down like this, just to annoy their parents with wet, muddy footprints in the house. Their dad would sling them both over his shoulders and take them upstairs for a bath, laughing in that fatherly kind of way he misses so desperately.

"Do you have kids?" He asks out of the blue, even though he already knows the answer.

Mary freezes up for all of two seconds before regaining composure. It's probably too personal a question to ask, but Castiel can't help himself. He wants to hear the words of a loving parent who dotes on their child in a way his own father never did. He wants to believe that there are moms and dads out there who don't walk out on their kids without saying goodbye. He wants to feel the kind of affection only a mother can have for her son, even if it's not for him directly. He just wants to know what it's like to be loved in that way.

"I do," She says with a faint, reminiscent kind of smile. "Two boys. Sam and Dean. They're my babies… Ugh, I love them to bits."

Castiel swallows the lump in his throat and smiles back; it makes him strangely happy, knowing that Dean has a mother who genuinely cares about him. He wonders what Dean is like with Mary, if he calls her 'mom', or 'mother', or 'ma'. He tries to picture Sam in his head. Is he a younger brother? Older? Does he look up to Dean, or do they fight like cat and dog? There's so many questions he wants to ask, but he knows he can't. He's not a part of their family. He doesn't have the right to know such things about them.

"That's nice," Is all he can say.

Mary's smile teeters on sympathetic, and he has to look away before he crumbles. He can't stand her pitying him like that. He just can't.

"I think that's enough for today," She says gently, leaning forward to place the journal in his hands. "You've made progress, Castiel. You're doing fine."

The journal feels heavier than before. He decides here and now that he's not going to write about this session, that he's going to try and forget he ever asked Mary about her family. He can't keep torturing himself like this. The father he once knew - the man who taught him how to fish and ride a bike - is gone, and his mother may as well be. There's no going back to that. It's about time he stops clinging to the past and moves on.

"I'll see you next week," He mutters before stumbling out of the room. He doesn't even look back to see if pity is still oozing from Mary's face. He doesn't think he could handle seeing that same, sad smile again just yet.

* * *

When he gets back to his room, his door is slightly ajar. He half expects to find Jo playing her guitar on the floor, or Kevin rifling through his drawers, but he doesn't. Instead, he stops dead in his tracks when he sees Dean sprawled out on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. His t-shirt rides up slightly, revealing a sliver of freckled skin, and Castiel has to tear his eyes away before he spontaneously combusts.

"Um… What are you doing?"

Dean sits up slowly, as if lying on a stranger's bed is completely normal, and smiles. "I was startin' to think Charlie gave me the wrong room."

"Charlie?"

"That girl will do anything for a Star Wars marathon, lemme tell ya."

"I don't understand. Why are you here?"

"To see you," Dean says bemusedly. "How's it goin'?"

Castiel blinks a few times, then presses a finger to his head to steady the jumble of thoughts racing through his mind. It makes no sense that Dean would want to see him. He's shocked he even remembers his name, let alone cares enough to purposely seek him out.

"Is there something you wanted?"

Dean rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and scoots closer to the edge of the bed. "Damn it, Cas. You got some trust issues or something?"

"Well, forgive me for questioning why a stranger thought it okay to break into my room and sleep in my bed."

"Stranger?" Dean scoffed. "We have met, ya know? Or did you forget?"

"Of course not."

How the hell could I forget a face like yours?

"Great," Dean leaps off the bed and claps his hands together. "Now that we've cleared that up, how d'you fancy a burger?"

Castiel frowns. "I… I can't leave without permission."

"Who said anything about leavin'?"

And with that, he practically skips past Castiel and disappears through the door, only popping his head back around to flash a smirk and crook his finger in a 'come here' motion.

"You comin'?"

Castiel hesitates for only a second before grabbing his coat and following.

* * *

It doesn't surprise him that Bobby Singer is such an astounding cook. Castiel didn't believe that he ran the place at first, but the older man had proven him wrong. He talks to the residents here in a familial kind of way. Not like a father, but a kooky uncle who listens to your crazy shit and deals with it without batting an eye.

"God, these never get old," Dean moans around a mouthful of burger. There's a spot of sauce on the corner of his mouth, but it doesn't gross him out like it usually would. Dean almost seems endearing as he chews loudly and hums less than appropriate sounds.

"Um, yes," He agrees, taking a tentative bite of his own burger. He asked for it plain; his taste has always been a little bland. "These are wonderful, Bobby. Thank you."

Bobby waves his spatula in the air and shrugs. "Ah, it's nothin'. My daddy was an ass, but his mom sure was one hell of a cook."

"How'd the concert go?" Dean suddenly asks, but he's looking at Bobby when he speaks. "I wanted to show my face, but Lisa needed me at her place… Couldn't say no."

Castiel tries to hide his disappointment with another mouthful, but the raised eyebrow Bobby sends his way suggests he wasn't very successful. He knows for a fact that Mary only has two sons - Sam and Dean - so Lisa can't possibly be his sister. Really, there's only one other option. It was stupid to assume someone as gorgeous as Dean was single anyway, let alone gay. Still doesn't make it hurt any less.

"It was good," Bobby finally tears his eyes away. "Jo soaked up all the attention like a sponge, of course."

Dean grins and nods his head, as if the image of Jo knee-sliding across the stage is clear as day in his mind. "Well, that's the Jo I know 'n love. Damn, I wished I'd been there."

"Things not so good with Lisa?"

"Nothin' like that," Dean shrugs as he takes another bite. "Just not makin' as much progress as I hoped for."

"Give the girl time. We aren't all born with a brain like yours, son."

Castiel's confusion must be evident on his face, because Bobby elaborates with a knowing kind of smirk that make his cheeks flush.

"Dean's a tutor."

"Oh," His jaw drops a little. "You, um… Uh, what do you tutor?"

"English," Dean's eyes flit between him and Bobby suspiciously, clearly trying to figure out whatever it is he missed. "Mostly, anyway. Helped Jo in mechanics, as well."

"You and Jo went to school together?" He practically splutters out the question.

Dean grins. "Bet ya didn't see that one comin', huh?"

"No, I… How long ago was that?"

"You mean how long ago was she normal?"

Castiel flushes even darker. "That's not what I meant at all."

"N'aw, it's alright. Jo knows how it is. She knows what people think of her… Kids in school still ask questions. I just shrug it off, tell 'em she's fine."

Bobby nods his head, but keeps quiet.

"How… I mean, why -"

"Why's she in here?"

"Yes."

"I couldn't tell ya, Cas. I really couldn't," Dean drops his last morsel onto his plate and wipes his fingers along his jeans, staring at some point over Bobby's shoulder. "One day, she was my best friend. Next thing I know… she was different."

Castiel hangs his head. "I'm sorry."

"Sure you are. Everyone is."

He wants to do something to comfort the beautiful boy slowly breaking in front of him, but he knows he's utterly useless. He only met Dean a few days ago; he hasn't earnt the right to know anything about him yet. And without that knowledge, how is he supposed to comfort him? All he knows how to do is sit here and wait until the tears stop falling. That's what he used to do when his mom was having an episode. He ushered Anna into her room, told her to lock the door, and then sat with his mom until it blew over. He can still hear those harrowing cries whenever he lies in bed and tries to sleep. But with Dean, the tears never come. He doesn't know if that's a good or a bad thing.

"Enough with the sob story," Dean jumps to his feet, pasting on a fake smile that twists his insides to mush. "You wanna hang out until my mom gets off?"

Castiel doesn't know how to deal with the sudden turn of events, so he simply nods his head dumbly and stands.

"Here, I'll take ya plates," Bobby says.

Dean doesn't waste any time. He slaps Bobby on the shoulder, thanks him for the grub, and then pulls Castiel out of the room and into the hallway. It's basically empty out here, save the dark-haired girl pacing back and forth a few doors down. Charlie told him to avoid her at all costs, said she was a demon disguised as an angel or something like that. When the girl catches his eye and starts marching over towards him, he finally understands.

Something flashes in those dark eyes of hers, and before he can protest, her pretty pink lips are crushing against his. He stumbles back in surprise, steading her lower back with his hand to stop them both from falling over. He doesn't even bother trying to stop her. He may be gay as can be, but a mouth is a mouth, and hers feels pretty good.

When she pulls back, a wicked smile is curling her lips. She arches a brow and drags her finger down Castiel's chest, stopping to pop a button halfway down his shirt. Only then does he push her away.

"I'm not gonna lie. That was pretty hot."

Castiel flushes from head to toe. He completely forgot that Dean was standing right there.

"I -"

"You're cute," The girl cuts him off. "D'you wanna come to my room, go move some furniture around?"

"What?"

"She's talkin' about sex, Cas," Dean's close to bursting with laughter. He can see it in the way his lips quiver. "Ya know, if you two want some alone time, I can always come back…"

"No! No, that's not -"

"Just tryin' to do a friend a favour."

"She's really not my type," Castiel all but whimpers. It's the most pathetic, ambiguous way of coming out, it makes him want to punch himself in the face, but it's all he's got right now. He tries to convey the rest of the message with his eyes. Dean must understand, because a satisfied smirk tugs at his lips, almost as if he planned this whole thing.

"Oh," He feigns shock. "Really? Wow… I never woulda have thunk it."

Castiel growls. "You're an ass."

"And you're adorable."

He swallows hard and turns away. The girl is still trying to claw his shirt apart, but the lustful glint in her eyes has dimmed somewhat. She almost seems bored.

"Please, save me."

Dean throws back his head in laughter. It's probably the sexiest sound he's ever heard.

"Aw, c'mon. Meg's not that bad. As far as demons go anyway."

"Quit callin' me that," Meg flips Dean the bird. "Unless you've changed your mind and wanna take up my offer…"

"Thanks. But I'd rather stick needles in my eyes."

Meg scoffs and turns down the hallway. "Your loss, Ken doll. Yours too, Clarence."

Castiel slumps without the weight of her body draped all over him. He's only ever been attacked by a girl like that once before. Anna's friend, April, locked them both in a closet at a house party once and tried to give him a hand job. When he told her he liked boys, she slapped him across the face and left with an angry flash of ginger hair. He never saw her again.

"You good?"

"What do you think?" He spits at Dean. "Why didn't you do something?!"

"Meg's harmless, trust me. She does that to everyone."

"She offers sex to everyone? Even the girls?"

"Especially the girls," Dean waggles his eyebrows. "Why d'you think Charlie hates her so much? Meg gave her the best sex of her life, then moved onto the next newbie."

"That's insane."

Dean shrugs a little. "I gotta admit, the sex is really good."

Castiel's heart breaks a little, but then he catches the shit-eating grin on Dean's face. He leans forward to punch him on the arm.

"Ass."

"Ya know, you really need to get some new material."

Castiel wrinkles his nose. "Ass… butt."

"Ass-butt?" Dean laughs loudly. "Really, Cas? That the best you can come up with?"

"Is that a challenge?"

Dean takes a step forward, smirking like the ass-butt he is. He has a few inches on Castiel, so he has to dip his head down to meet his eyes as he backs him up against the wall. Castiel's heart stutters in his chest. He's pressing so hard against the wall, he's afraid he might fall through. Maybe that would be for the best.

"Go on, then. Call me somethin' nasty," Dean's lips brush against the shell of his ear, the innuendo of his words making his dick stir in his boxers.

"I-I…"

"You what? Hm? Go on, Cas. Say somethin' dirty."

They're so close right now. All he'd have to do is turn his head, and their lips would touch. He'd get to taste those plump lips he's been fantasying about all week. It's ridiculous, he knows. They don't know each other. They're strangers. But Castiel is so tempted to close the gap, he can feel the beads of sweat gathering on his forehead.

It takes every ounce of self-control to duck beneath Dean's arm and step around him.

"I need to get back to my room," He says, mouth so dry he can barely speak.

Dean drops his head for a moment, then turns around and gives him a smile. It's soft and genuine - not the smile of a boy with blue balls. Castiel wants to jump onto his chest and attack his mouth, but he doesn't. He clenches his fists, and he just doesn't.

"Okay," Dean says. "That's cool. We can hang out some other time, yeah? My mom should be out soon anyway."

Castiel hesitates before saying. "Your mom is my counsellor."

"You kiddin' me?"

"No," He shakes his head. "She's very nice."

Dean grins. "Hell yeah, she is."

He wants to say something else, but he knows that if he stands here looking at that smile any longer, he'll most definitely cave. He doesn't know when he turned into this messy bundle of teenage drama, but something about Dean makes him want to surrender for once. His whole life, he's been trying to exceed people's expectations, to not be a cliché, but Dean makes it so hard not to act like the horny seventeen year old he's supposed to be.

"I should go," He says, before he pops a boner by just looking at the other boy.

"Sure," Dean reaches forward to take his hand, but stops midway, opting to slap him on the shoulder instead. "I'll see ya later, Cas."

All he can do is nod his head and wave goodbye, standing stock-still in the middle of the corridor, mouth open and half-hard in his jeans, as Dean disappears around the corner.

Is it a bad sign that he already misses him? Probably. But he doesn't care. He came here thinking his life was over, that he'd finally reached the ultimate dead-end, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe this place really is a new beginning - a fresh start. Maybe, if he allows himself, he might just find whatever it is he's been looking for to fill that void.

Maybe he's already found it.


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel is leaning over the porch, watching the sun rise over the buildings ahead, when he feels a pair of hands squeezing his ass. He leaps a foot in the air and spins around, half-expecting to find Meg standing there, ready to attack him again. But he doesn't. In her place, there's a shorter boy with dark blonde hair and toffee coloured eyes smirking up at him.

He gawks. "You just touched my butt!"

"Yep. It's pretty firm, too," The other boy winks. "Name's Gabriel! Gabe for short."

"I -"

"Take my hand, kid," Gabriel says, waiting patiently with his arm stretched out in front of him. His fingers look suspiciously sticky, but Castiel doesn't want to seem rude, so he takes his hand rather tentatively and shakes.

"Um… Castiel. Nice to meet you."

"I already know who you are, but thanks for the introduction," Gabriel snaps his hand back and reaches into his pocket for a bright red lollipop.

Castiel frowns. "How do you know who I am exactly?"

"Jo told me, duh. She tells me everything."

"She does?"

"Well, yeah. She is my wife, after all."

Castiel can't help but laugh, but a part of him actually wonders if he's telling the truth. "What do you mean she's your wife?"

"I'm gonna forgive you for being slow, considering you're new and all," Gabriel rolls his eyes dramatically. "Me 'n Jo got hitched in May. The warden acted as Officiant, Charlie made the dresses. It was a lovely service."

Castiel blinks. "You… You got married. Is that even legal?"

"Sure is," Gabriel waggles his eyebrows. "We honeymooned in the basement, and made sweet, sweet love all weekend."

"Now I know you're lying to me."

"How so?"

"Well, for one thing, I'm fairly certain that Jo is sleeping with Michael."

Gabriel slaps a hand over his heart, feigning betrayal. "That cheating whore!"

"Gee, thanks, Cas."

They both turn to find Jo standing in the doorway with her guitar strung over her shoulder.

Castiel flushes. "Oh, um… Sorry, Jo."

"Pfft, like I care," She shrugs her shoulders and joins them on the porch. "S'not like we've been hiding it or anything."

Gabriel continues to wipe a non-existent tear off his cheek. "I thought we had something special, Joanna Beth. You told me you loved me!"

"This here's Gabe," Jo waves her hand in the air. "Don't listen to a word he says. He's a compulsive liar."

Castiel shoots a glare in Gabriel's direction. "How do you really know who I am, then?"

"I like to spy on the newbies."

"You've been spying on me? For how long?"

"Oh, just a few days," His smirk suddenly intensifies. "Dean-o's as straight as a bendy straw, by the way."

Castiel splutters. "I don't know what you're talking about…"

"Can't say the same for his little bro, unfortunately. I'd climb that like a tree, but the kid's already got a girlfriend… How boring."

Jo chuckles. "You do realize Sam's like, twelve, right?"

"Age is just a number, my friend."

"You're gross."

"And you're banging Michael in the janitor's closest. We all have our faults."

Jo doesn't even flinch. "We do in his room, actually. He's classy like that. Treats me like a princess."

"Wow. You're delusional, kiddo. I saw him 'n Meg getting rather close during your concert. Looked like one hell of a party. I would've invited myself, but I can't stand the bitch."

"Okay, okay," Castiel steps in between them. "Can't we just… watch the sunrise together?"

Jo turns her attention to the sky. "Woah. That's pretty neat."

"Mhm," Gabriel agrees. "Can I squeeze your boobs?"

"For the last time, no, Gabe! Sheesh…"

"You let Michael squeeze them!"

"Yeah, cos he can actually reach that high."

"Ouch. That's a low blow."

Castiel forces a smile and tries to focus on the ripples of colour floating above their heads. Reds, oranges, yellows, purples - even flecks of pink and lilac. It's beautiful, really. But he still can't help but look for bits of green, hoping to find a shade similar to the grassy colour of Dean's eyes, or the faint cross between emerald and hazel that lies in the middle of them. The colours are wonderful, but none of them even come close.

"Oh, wow," Gabriel suddenly pops up beside him, standing on his tiptoes to prop his elbow against his shoulder. "You've got it real bad, Cassy."

"Don't call me that," He scowls. "And stop pretending you know me."

Gabriel sticks the lollipop in the corner of his mouth and shrugs. "Doesn't matter whether I know you or not, kiddo. Those pining, puppy dog eyes look the same on every poor sucker."

"Shut up," He flushes darkly.

"Aw, c'mon! You're blushing like a school girl now!"

"Leave him alone," Jo rolls her eyes. "I know Dean better than anyone here. I can talk to him, if ya like."

Castiel licks his lips and side-eyes Gabriel. "Is he… I mean, is he straight, or -"

"He's neither," Jo shrugs. "Dean doesn't have a preference."

Castiel releases a sigh of relief. He was pretty sure that Dean at least swung both ways, based on his little performance in the corridor the other day, but hearing it confirmed by his best friend makes it all the more relieving.

"Good," He smiles a little. "That's good."

"So… You gonna ask him out?"

"I'm not sure," He's never been asked out before, let alone asked someone out himself, so he has no idea how to approach Dean in that department. "Do you think I should?"

Jo elbows him in the ribs and grins, steading her guitar against her hip before bringing Castiel in for a bone-crushing hug.

"Of course I think you should, Cas! You guys would be awesome together."

Castiel smiles even wider. "Okay… But, I don't know how."

"How to what?"

"You know… ask him out. I don't know what to say."

"Aw, he's adorable," Gabriel coos. "So disgustingly innocent…"

Jo shoves Gabriel back through the door. "Go away, Gabe. Look, Cas… It's simple, okay? You just ask him out! He'll say yes, for sure."

"How do you know that?"

"Because he obviously likes you," She shakes her head. "You think Gabe's the only one who's seen you two together? Meg told us all about your little thing in the corridor."

"But -"

"No buts, alright? Not until you 'n Dean are having hot, naked sex!"

Castiel balks. "Jo!"

"What? Hey! Are you a top or a bottom?"

"I am not discussing this -"

"Oh, please," Gabriel pushes Jo aside. "He's clearly a bottom! Look at that baby face!"

Jo hums. "I dunno… Did you see him get up in Lucifer's face his first day here? That shit was intimidating, I'll tell ya."

"Stop!" Castiel interjects, his face on fire. "Just… please don't talk about my sex life. It's extremely disturbing."

Jo is quiet for all of ten seconds before she asks. "So, when are you gonna do it?"

"I don't know," Castiel massages his temples. "I just don't want to rush things… We've only known each for a week or so."

"How long you here for?"

He shrugs. "Three months, give or take."

"Okay. It's been nine days since you arrived. That gives you - what? Less than twelve weeks until you get out?"

"Well, I suppose so."

"That's not very long, Cas," She sighs. "It might seem it, but it'll fly by. Do you really wanna waste your time debating whether or not he'll say yes? You might not get to see him afterwards."

Castiel considers this for a moment. She's probably right. His counsellor is Dean's mother; his relationship with him is questionable as it is. Who knows whether or not they'll see each other after this is all over? Maybe he'll be shipped back off to live with his uncle again, like poor Anna. These three months at Opal Grove might be it. Like Jo said, it's obvious that he and Dean have something going on, so why worry about his response? Why not grab this rare opportunity to be happy for once, if only for a little while?

"Okay," He nods his head, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. "Okay, I'll do it."

Jo jumps in the air. "Awesome! Bagsy singing at your guy's wedding!"

"We're not getting married, Jo."

"Oh, so you can predict the future now, huh?"

"I'm just saying… Let's try and be realistic here, okay? Even if Dean says yes, we've only got three months together."

Gabriel snorts. "Being realistic is for sad-saps, Cassy!"

"Besides," Jo shrugs. "There's no guarantee you won't be able to see each other again. I was just saying that to, ya know… give you that extra push."

"Yeah. I guess," Castiel tries to smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. Deep down, he knows that going to live with his uncle Zachariah is his only fate, but he still wants to try and make things work with Dean. Maybe he can go along with it and pretend that there's a chance they can live happily ever after together, even though it's a load of crap. He's usually not one for false hope and empty promises, but avoiding Dean would be all but impossible, so why even bother trying to fight it?

"Now you've had your pep talk, you think we could go snatch some grub?"

"D'you ever think about anything other than your stomach?"

"Sex is also good," Gabriel winks.

Jo huffs. "I swear you're a nymphomaniac."

"Actually, the male equivalent is a satyromaniac," Castiel points out.

"Oh, wow. That's really interesting," Gabriel feigns interest, rubbing his chin and nodding attentively. "Now, let's go! I'm gonna end up eating my own johnson in a minute!"

Jo smirks, "I think that's a wise decision, Gabe."

"HA-HA. Can we please just go now!"

* * *

Dean doesn't show his face at Opal Grove for quite a while. Well, four days, but it may as well be a lifetime as far as Castiel is concerned. After his conversation with Jo and Gabriel (who has somehow wormed his way into the close circle of friends he's acquired here), Castiel was ready - even excited - to ask Dean out on a date. He was going to suggest dinner and movie, if Bobby would allow it, and maybe a walk in the park. Yes, a horribly clichéd idea for a first date, he knows, but Anna assured him once (after watching about a dozen different rom-coms with her at the hospital when she broke her arm), that making an effort is always worth it. Romantic strolls in the moonlight are an essential for first dates.

So, with nothing better to do than mope around the place, Castiel spends his time helping Kevin with his latest project. Last week, he was building a house for woodlice, and now he's moved onto glue sculptures. The kitchen table is littered with tiny white creations of dried glue, and Castiel would be lying if he said they weren't impressive. He never would have guessed that Kevin - who's favourite hobby is collecting dust and stealing people's garbage - would have such a talent for making things. But, then again, he's starting to realize that no one is quite what they seem at Opal Grove.

"Could you pass me the scraper, please?" Kevin asks in his quite, trembling voice.

Castiel reaches across the table into Bobby's toolbox (which he's fairly certain Kevin stole, considering dangerous items are most definitely forbidden for residents), and passes him the flat knife-looking thing he assumes is the scraper.

"Thank you," Kevin smiles softly.

He begins peeling the dried glue off the glass sheet on the table, careful not tear any of the individual designs. Kevin told him briefly what they were - different sections for a much bigger piece he's planning on unveiling just before he leaves. Apparently, his mom is taking him home in a month's time. He's been here for six weeks, and his progress has been amazing. Castiel can only imagine what he was like when he first arrived.

He's about to ask about the specific piece of glue he's currently taking off the glass, but someone opens the kitchen door before he can open his mouth, startling him out of his thoughts. Kevin continues scraping without a care in the world, but an instant chill runs down Castiel's spine when he lifts his head to see who it is.

Luke (it didn't take him long to figure out why everyone calls him Lucifer) walks through the kitchen without a word, or even a smile. Castiel doesn't take it personally; he never acknowledges anyone unless he's looking for a fight. He made the mistake of using Luke's mug his first day here. The other boy barged into his room, eyes wild and fuming, and threw him against the wall before trying to knock him out with his forehead. Luckily, Castiel knows how to hold his own, so scrambling out of his hold and switching positions wasn't too difficult. After giving Lucifer his mug back in one piece, he received a nasty gash across his arm for his troubles, as well as a warning not to overstep his mark again.

"Good morning," He says, just trying to test the waters.

Luke shoots him a glare and grunts. He's got that stupid smiley-face mug in his hands again. He doesn't think he's ever seen the boy without it. For a moment, he almost feels guilty. Maybe it's something special to him, and Castiel just used it without even asking. But then he remembers the searing pain of Luke's nails against his flesh, tearing a hole in his arm, and his old loathing returns immediately.

Once he's topped up his coffee (the air is thick with its rich scent), Luke strolls past the table, casually shoving a small cluster of Kevin's sculptures onto the floor. The white figurines bounce dimly against the tiles before rolling beneath Castiel's chair.

"You ass," He stands up with a growl. "That was completely uncalled for!"

Kevin reaches out to grab his arm, keeping his eyes on the ground as he shakes his head frantically. "N-No, Cas. It's alright. It's okay."

As much as wants to punch Lucifer (yes, he thinks he might start calling him that after all), he can sense the panic in Kevin's eyes. God knows what the older boy has done to torment him in the past. If Lucifer is willing to throw his sculptures onto the floor without any reason, then what might he do if Castiel was to wind him up like that?

"Fine," He spits, jerking out of Kevin's hold.

A satisfied smirk curls Lucifer's lips, making ugly lines in his cheeks and around his eyes. He makes sure to crush one of the sculptures - the tiny guitar Kevin made for Jo - beneath his socked foot before leaving the room.

"Shit," Castiel curses, dropping to the ground to salvage the broken pieces. He hardly ever curses (not after living with Zachariah for almost a year), but the anger pulsing through his veins is enough to get his blood boiling, so he has to unleash it somehow.

Kevin pinches the bridge of his nose. "Don't worry about it, Cas. I'll make another one."

"You shouldn't have to make another one. That's the point."

"Lucifer's a douche to everyone."

"Yeah, well. He shouldn't get away with it."

"Bobby tells him off a lot."

"Clearly not enough," Castiel carefully places the sculptures in a pile on the table.

Kevin nods his thanks and goes about repairing what he can of Jo's guitar. He wonders briefly if there's a tiny sculpture for him somewhere, but he doubts he's been here long enough to warrant such a gift.

"I don't like bullies," He says flatly.

Kevin hums. "Who does?"

"They're just… they don't have the right to treat people that way. No one does. It's not right."

"You've been bullied before?"

Castiel swallows thickly and shakes his head, playing with his fingers to stop himself from scratching at the scab on his arm. "No. My sister was though…"

"That sucks."

"Yeah," He huffs a laugh. He doesn't know why, but he does. "Some days, she'd come home crying so badly, I'd have to give her my inhaler, just to keep her breathing steady."

Kevin scrunches up his nose. "You have asthma?"

"Used to. It was, um… It was a stress thing. It's not so bad anymore."

"Maybe you should go get some air."

Castiel opens his mouth to protest, but all that comes out is a wheezing noise. He presses a hand against his collar and clears his throat. It feels like there's something lodged in there, as well as someone sitting on his chest with their legs wrapped around his neck. He hasn't had an attack in such a long time, he didn't even notice the warning signs. All he has to do is focus on his breathing, and it's like his lungs open up again, but he still feels a little woozy.

"Okay," He says shakily. "Yeah, okay. I will. Don't go anywhere?"

Kevin smiles. "Of course not."

* * *

When he steps out onto the porch, the sky is slate grey. It hasn't rained since his session with Mary last week, but the heavens are obviously bursting to open up again. He can't wait for the long-awaited downpour. He wonders if Bobby will let him run out in his shorts like the good old days. Maybe his friends could join him too. Jo, Charlie, Kevin and Gabe - all running around like animals in the pouring rain. The thought makes him chuckle.

"Something funny?"

Castiel turns to find Dean leaning against the house, one hand in his pocket and the other pinching a cigarette between his lips. The smoke rises up, curling in tendrils through the chilled morning air. He looks even more like Danny Zuko than before.

"You came back," Castiel says.

Dean raises an eyebrow. "You didn't think I would?"

"I didn't think you really cared."

"Well," He removes the cigarette and licks his newly-dry lips. "Here I am."

"I can see that."

He turns his back on Dean and stares out over the parking lot. He knows he shouldn't, but he somehow feels betrayed. The last time they spoke, they came dangerously close to crossing some serious boundaries, and then Dean disappeared for four days. Now he's acting like everything is fine. Castiel doesn't know if it has something to do with the bad-boy façade he's clearly hiding behind, but it makes him angry. It's stupid, he knows; how can he be angry at Dean, especially when he was the one to step away? But he can't help it. He just is.

"You're mad," Dean notes.

Castiel snorts. "What gave it away?"

"Well, you're kind of ignoring me, for a start. C'mon. What's up?"

And for some reason, that's all it takes. His shoulders sag, and he turns to face Dean with what he can only imagine is a crumpled expression.

"I like boys," He announces firmly. He sounds surer of himself now - not like the other week with Charlie, when he wasn't certain his friends wouldn't abandon him for being gay.

Dean looks surprised for a brief moment before popping his cigarette back into his mouth and shrugging. "I already knew that."

"Well, yes. Otherwise you wouldn't have tried to kiss me."

"I didn't," Dean shakes his head. "I was just teasin' you, man. C'mon…"

Castiel scoffs. "So you're saying you don't have feelings for me?"

Dean's throat ripples, and he shrugs again. "Didn't say that either. You're puttin' words in my mouth."

"Only because you won't talk to me!"

"What d'you want me to say?"

"I want you tell me I'm not crazy, that I'm not just imagining things," He says almost desperately. "Something is happening between us, Dean. Tell me I'm wrong."

Dean draws so hard on his cigarette, his cheeks hollow out. Castiel tries not to let his mind wander too far down the gutter, but it's so damn hard. And maybe that isn't the best word to use at this moment in time, when he's struggling not to picture those lips wrapped around something else entirely.

Dean drops the cigarette to the floor and grinds it out with his boot, taking a step closer until they're chests are almost touching. "You're not wrong."

"Okay," He shivers. "So… where do we go from here?"

"You're askin' me? Cas, I haven't been in a relationship in, well… it's gotta be goin' on four years now."

"Try never."

"You've never dated before? Bullshit."

Castiel cocks his head. "You think coming out to my openly homophobic neighbourhood would be a wise decision? Let alone my religious family?"

"Right," Dean drops his head. "Yeah, maybe you've got a point."

"I'm just saying… I don't know how this works. I'm… I'm not good with people. I don't know how to act around them. It's hard enough making friends here, but having feelings for someone? It worries me."

Dean hesitates for just a second before brushing his knuckles across Castiel's bare arms. His eyes seem to linger on the scab Lucifer left behind - kept fresh by his anxious scratching in the middle of the night - but he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he keeps going down until their hands touch, silently asking permission to link their fingers together. Castiel obliges without even thinking. It just feels right.

"I don't care how long it's been," He whispers. "I like you, man. And maybe it's wrong, I dunno… But what the fuck does it matter? You're gonna be gone in less than three months."

Castiel frowns. "How do you know that?"

"Oh, uh… Jo told me," There's a light dusting of pink across his cheeks now. "Sorry, I just… I couldn't stop thinkin' about you."

Castiel smiles, shrugging slightly. "Well, I went to her and Gabe for relationship advice, so I can hardly judge you."

"Woah. You're a brave man."

"Or a stupid one," He grumbles. "Now Gabe won't stop tormenting me."

"He's a freaky little dude… Has a thing for my brother, which is creepy, but he's alright when you get to know him."

Castiel chuckles. "I could say that about most of the people here."

"They're a strange bunch, but that's what makes them special. I wouldn't trade 'em."

"How long has your mom worked here for?"

Dean shrugs. "About three years now. She was here before, ya know… Jo 'n all that. Most of the residents have moved on since then, except for Lucifer."

"I wonder why."

"Yeah. I don't trust that guy," There's a weight to his words that suggests they have a history to justify his hatred.

It's personal, Castiel can tell, so he doesn't push the subject. All he can do is squeeze Dean's hand and hope that it offers some kind of comfort.

"I want to ask you out on a date," He says after a moment's silence. "I'm not sure what it would entail… I mean, I'm practically a prisoner here, but we could think of something. A movie, maybe. Whatever you'd like."

Dean lifts his head just enough for Castiel to notice the sheen of unshed tears in his eyes. He doesn't know if it was mentioning Lucifer, or Jo, but either way, it feels like a punch to his stomach. He never wants to see Dean cry, never wants to see those gorgeous eyes drowning in a pool of despair. He wants to hold him until he forgets about the bad in the world, and nothing else matters but the beating of their hearts. Maybe it's sappy (it most definitely is), but what can he say? He's a teenage boy. There's no escaping that.

"Where d'you come from?" Dean asks in an awed kind of voice.

Castiel chuckles. "Just Illinois… Nowhere fancy."

There's a long moment when he thinks maybe - just maybe - Dean is going to lean in and finish what he started the other day. But there's tears in his eyes, and it's freezing out here, so the mood isn't exactly right.

"So… date night," Dean clears his throat, grinning infectiously. "You gonna spoil me?"

Castiel mirrors his smile and shrugs, pretending to think about it. "Oh, I don't know. I guess you're just going to have to wait and see."

It's only then that he realizes their hands are still joined, and he really doesn't want to let go.


	4. Chapter 4

Eleven weeks. Seventy seven days. One thousand eight hundred and - what? Thirty eight hours? That's how long he's got before they take him away. That's how long he has with Jo and Charlie and Kevin and Gabe… That's how long he has with Dean.

Castiel falls back onto his bed with a sigh, glancing at the calendar hanging at an angle on the wall above his nightstand. His first week here, he circled off the days with a fat red marker - like they do in all those cheesy movies - and actually looked forward to the day when they'd finally let him go home to Anna. He didn't care about making friends, or even progress. He just wanted to get back to her, so he could keep her safe like he's supposed to do. Of course, he still wants to protect his sister, but things are different now. Opal Grove is starting to feel less like a prison, and more like a home. The residents here are almost like family to him, and he hates himself for ever thinking he was above them somehow. Like Dean said - he wouldn't trade them for anything.

Thinking about Dean still manages to make him nervous, but that good kind of nervous that makes your stomach all fluttery and stuff. Today is finally the day of their date, and everything is readily prepared. He was worried about asking Bobby for permission to use the projector in the hall (because that involved explaining why he needed it in the first place, and thus telling him about his date with Dean), but - apart from a raised eyebrow - Bobby hardly questioned it. He even offered to cook them up some burgers, like they had the other week.

Castiel doesn't know much about movies, so he left the decision making up to Charlie, so they're probably going to end up watching Star Trek or Lord of the Rings - neither of which he's seen nor has even the faintest idea about. Not that it matters. He'll most likely take the opportunity to study Dean's face in the low lights of the hall, as creepy as that sounds.

Jo wanted to serenade them afterwards, but Castiel somehow convinced her to leave the guitar playing for their wedding (to which she squealed, punched him in the arm, and told him she knew they were going to get hitched someday). Gabe wasn't much help either. He insisted on making the cake for the wedding, with lots of chocolate and plenty of sprinkles. Castiel decided not to mention his dislike for cake… He didn't think it necessary.

Even Kevin wanted to help in some way. He ended up showing Castiel how to make a tiny pie out of glue (Dean told him that, besides burgers, pie was his favourite food). He wasn't sure how well the gift would go down; despite following Kevin's instructions closely, his sculpture left much to be desired. But it's the thought that counts, right?

Castiel rolls onto his stomach and reaches into his drawer, where he keeps his journal. He hasn't written much in it lately, and he kind of feels like he's letting Mary down. He doesn't plan on sharing his feelings for Dean with her anytime soon, but the least he can do is talk some more about his new friends here. She seems to like it when he talks about that sort of stuff, probably because it makes him sound like a normal teenager bonding with other normal teenagers (even though he knows that everyone here is a far stretch from normal).

He opens the journal and starts with his usual, clichéd opener - Dear Diary,

Then he draws a blank.

He wants to write about his friends, but he suddenly realizes how difficult it is to do that. Talking about Jo's concert was easy; he just described the atmosphere, and how he felt about the music. But talking about Jo herself is a different story altogether. What does he really know about her, besides her love for song-writing? Not much. He doesn't even know a lot about Kevin, who he spends most of his time with. It almost makes him feel guilty, realizing how little he knows about his own friends. I mean, do they even count as friends if that's the case? Does he deserve to call them that, when he hasn't even bothered to get to know them?

Castiel drums his fingers along the journal's spine and hums, slowly devising a plan to overcome this dilemma in his head.

Jo - he writes at the top of the page - Plays guitar. Writes her own songs. JOANNNA BETH HARVELLE. First friend I made here. Wants to sing at my wedding. Sleeping with Michael. Making an album. Dean's best friend.

He knows that writing that last part is risky, that when Mary reads it, she's finally going to know about his relationship with her son (or at least know that they've met), but he doesn't really care. He can't miss out such an important fact; Dean is Jo's best friend, and that's not something to be ignored. He wants to know more about it someday, but he's not going to push either of them. They'll come to him when they're ready.

He keeps on writing.

Kevin - Collects dust and garbage. Makes things. Glue sculptures. Quiet. Friendly. Going home in a month. Has a mom. Scared of Lucifer.

Charlie - Obsessed with movies. Marvel, not DC. Talks a lot. Happy all the time. Likes girls. Likes Jo. Loves Hermione Granger. Slept with Meg (best sex of her life). LARPing?

Gabriel - Gabe for short. Likes to touch. Sweet tooth. INAPPROPRIATE. Compulsive liar. Wants to make the cake at my wedding.

Meg - AVOID AT ALL COSTS.

Garth - Talks to himself. Hugs a lot. Voices?

Michael - Sleeping with Jo. Sleeping with Meg. Sleeping with a lot of people. Swears a lot.

Ruby - Bad relationship. DON'T TALK TO HER. Mean.

Luke - AKA Lucifer. Cruel. Spiteful. Doesn't smile. Doesn't talk. Smiley face mug.

Bobby - The warden.

Mary - My counsellor. Dean's mom.

He stops writing and chews on the end of his pen. He knows he should probably put something about Dean, but he's not sure what. He knows he has a brother called Sam, that his best friend is Jo, that he loves burgers and pie, that he smokes (but he's not supposed to), that he likes movies almost as much as Charlie… But do any of those things really matter? There's only one thing he knows for certain, and everything else seems minute in comparison.

He presses the nib of the pen to the paper gently, careful to keep every word clear and crisp; he doesn't want anyone misunderstanding what he's trying to say.

Dean Winchester - Makes me very happy.

* * *

By two o'clock, Castiel's room is starting to feel rather claustrophobic. He has Charlie and Gabe debating which Indiana Jones movie is the best out of the trilogy (apparently there's also a fourth movie, but they choose not to talk about it), Kevin is sat at the foot of his bed, braiding the tassels dangling off the throw blanket over the sheets, and Jo is tuning her guitar in the corner, completely oblivious to the horrible noises she's making in the process.

Castiel is silently freaking out in his mind. He's discreetly changed his shirt four times now, but none of them seem right. He either feels like he's choking, or that the material is riding too far up his hips (not that he thinks Dean would object to that). He tries to busy himself by attempting to fix his hair, but the unruly tufts refuse to stay down for long, so he quickly surrenders. There's not much he can do but wait until Dean finally arrives, and every second that ticks by is slowly picking away at him, incinerating any smudge of confidence he had to start with.

"He's late," He manages to croak out when the big hand just crawls past the four. "He was supposed to be here by now."

Gabe cocks his head. "Cassy, it's only just -"

"He said twenty past, Gabe. Now it's almost twenty five past. He must not be coming!"

Charlie snorts. "Aw, c'mon, dude… He'll be here, don't worry."

"But -"

"Hey, guys," Dean suddenly pops his head around the door, smirking like a smug bastard when he adds. "Sorry I'm late."

Castiel can feel an instant heat prickling his neck, but he brushes it off with a smile and jumps to his feet, ignoring the snickers all around him. "It's okay. You're not that late."

"Two minutes," Dean says with mockingly apologetic eyes. "I'll try harder next time."

"Who said there'd be a next time?" Gabe points his lollipop accusingly at Dean. "You better treat this one right, Winchester, or things won't be pretty for you."

Castiel can't help but smile at Gabe's words. He's never had friends who look out for him before, or care about the way others treat him. He had Fergus in Illinois, but they only stuck together because they didn't fit in anywhere else. Their friendship was the epitome of one of those drawers you fill with random bits and pieces you find around the house; the only thing they shared was their inability to fall into some kind of crowd and find their place.

"Ignore him," He rolls his eyes, albeit fondly.

"No, no… The guy's got a point," Dean threads their fingers together and grins. "You deserve to be treated right."

Jo pretends to choke on her finger and gags. "Ugh! Go be gooey somewhere else, will ya?"

"If you can't handle this, how d'you expect to play at their wedding?" Gabe scoffs.

Dean's eyes widen, and Castiel flushes darkly. "We're not getting married, don't worry! I… I just said that to get them off my back."

"Weddings are different," Jo counters, blatantly ignoring the awkward position Gabe just dumped him in. "You have time to work your way up to those. But random PDAs are just seriously uncalled for, okay?"

Gabe shakes his head slowly. "You're officially insane."

"Why d'you think I'm here?"

Castiel winces slightly, glancing back at Dean to make sure he's not upset; he quickly realized that all mentions of Jo's mysterious condition tend to set him off, but he looks strangely calm right now - almost amused. Maybe it's different when Jo is making the digs at herself. It proves that she still has an awareness (as well as a sense of humour) for a start.

"So," Dean swings their joined hands back and forth between their hips, and Castiel can't help but smile at how cheesy it all is. "What's first?"

Charlie scrambles off the bed and slings her arms around them both. "Don't worry, Dean. I've got ya covered! Cas gave me the responsibility of picking the movie, and I chose only the greatest adventure flick of all time -"

"The Last Crusade!" Gabe interjects with a shit-eating grin.

Charlie scowls. "Goddamit, Gabe! I thought we agreed on Raiders?!"

"Actually, Red… You agreed all by yourself. The Last Crusade is without a doubt the best Indie film there is!"

"That's a load of crap! Besides, you can't just throw Cas into the deep end! He needs to start with the first movie to get the full effect!"

"It's not exactly hard to get the gist of it, you know?"

"But if you start with the third one, he's never gonna meet Marion!"

"Who cares? Elsa was way hotter anyway!"

"But Marion is his true love!"

"The romance is just a side plot, Charl! It doesn't matter! It's completely irrelevant!"

"It makes Indie more sympathetic as a character, knowing he's not completely narcissistic!"

"Indie's not narcissistic! He's a badass!"

"Oh, come on -"

"SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU!"

Everyone startles at Jo's sudden outburst. Who knew such a loud voice could come out of a such a tiny body? But then again, Castiel's underestimated plenty of people at Opal Grove before. It wouldn't surprise him if Jo could take him in a fight…

Dean shrugs to ease the tension in the air. "I've gotta agree with Charlie on this one, Gabe. I mean, you're right about Indie bein' a total badass, but you can't beat the classics."

"Aha!" Charlie sticks her tongue out at Gabe, who simply folds his arms and pouts.

"You good with Raiders, Cas?"

"I guess so," He shrugs one shoulder. "Starting from the beginning does sound like a better idea."

Gabe throws his hands in the air, almost sending his lollipop flying, and shakes his head. "You're all a bunch of uncultured swines!"

"Shall we go now?" Castiel whispers into Dean's ear.

Dean chuckles, the sound sending tingles down his spine. "Yeah. Sounds like a plan."

"Have an awesome time, dudes!" Charlie gives them the peace sign.

Kevin smiles shyly. "Yeah… Have fun."

"I hope you choke on the warden's burgers, Dean-o!"

"Shut up, Gabe," Jo grumbles.

Castiel latches onto Dean's arm and literally drags him out of the room before his so-called friends can embarrass him any further. He knows that it doesn't really matter, that Dean has known them all longer than him and is probably used to their craziness by now, but he still wants everything to be perfect, and blushing like a twelve year old is definitely not a good place to start. He doesn't want Dean knowing how terrified he is deep down. Nerves are anything but attractive, after all. He's never cared much about pleasing people before, but he wants Dean to see him in the best way possible - not as someone broken and weak.

* * *

The hall is, quite frankly, depressing. With it's white-washed walls and stacked plastic chairs, it's probably the only room at Opal Grove that reminds Castiel why he's here; this isn't a holiday, he's not supposed to be having fun. He's supposed to be recovering. And thinking about that reminds him of what he needs to recover from in the first place. It's a vicious circle really, but considering this is the only room with a projector in the whole building, there's not much he can do to avoid it.

"I feel like we're in one of the those old high school movies," Dean says with a grin, effectively snapping Castiel out of his thoughts.

"Yeah," He smiles back. "Sorry for the, uh… corniness. I told you I don't know much about dating and stuff."

Dean squeezes his hand before letting go. "It's great, Cas. I love it."

"Really?"

"What can I say? I'm easily pleased," He makes a point of raking his eyes over Castiel's body and licks his lips. "Plus, the view's not too bad…"

Castiel swallows thickly. "I think we should start the movie. I mean, if you want to."

"Sure. D'you know how to set it up?"

"How hard can it be?"

Turns out, it can be very hard. After ten minutes of trying to figure out which cable goes where, and swallowing a lungful of smoke that burped out of the projector, Dean eventually steps in. When the movie finally appears on the white sheet hanging from the wall, they settle down on the floor with a bag of sweet & salted popcorn (Gabe somehow managed to smuggle it into the building and hide it in his pants drawer for almost a week).

The screen is discoloured and kind of faded, and the sound crackles every time it reaches a loud scene, but Dean is completely enthralled from the get go, and Castiel won't deny that the awed expression on his face is anything but gorgeous. Between Dean laughing, gasping, and quoting all of his favourite lines in perfect synchronisation with the characters, Castiel can't keep his eyes from wandering over to the boy sitting beside him. He didn't think it possible to form such a strong connection with a person so quickly, but there's something different about Dean. He's completely hooked on those green eyes, and the constellation of freckles that arches over the bridge of his nose. He'd be more than happy to sit here, studying Dean's profile with secret glances, all night, but before he knows it, the movie has finished, and Dean is already on his feet, stretching his arms above his head with a jaw-popping yawn.

"So, what d'you think?"

Castiel tears his eyes away from the sliver of skin peeking out beneath Dean's shirt. "Um… pardon?"

"The movie, Cas," Dean smirks, as if he knows exactly what's his doing. "What did you think of the movie?"

"Oh, it was, um… It was very… adventurous. And, uh, unpredictable?"

I was watching you the whole time. How the hell would I know what the movie was like?

Dean shakes his head and smiles, reaching forward to grab his arm and pull him to his feet. They stay standing there for a moment, just staring curiously into each other's eyes. Castiel doesn't know how to decipher the mixed emotions playing on Dean's face. There's a hint of excitement - maybe hope? - but it's drowned out by the cloud of doubt tugging his lips downwards. He almost seems upset, but Castiel has no idea why. As far as he's concerned, the movie part of their date went pretty well. He doesn't have time to figure it out though, because Dean's soon tugging him out of the room and down the corridor.

"Next stop burgers, right?"

Castiel nods his head, a little dazed by Dean's sudden eagerness. "Um… yes. Bobby said he'd make them special. Dinner isn't for another hour yet, though."

"I'm sure he'll make an exception," Dean winks over his shoulder, and his knees certainly do not buckle in the slightest.

Sure enough, Bobby is more than happy to whip them up some burgers before food gets dished out to the other residents. It feels a little strange, eating before everyone else; he's gotten so used to the routine of having dinner at six, he almost feels like he's excluding himself from the group. But the smell drifting from the kitchen (where Bobby is working in his 'kiss the cook' apron) is heavenly, so he can hardly complain.

"You booked a table for two?" Dean whispers down his ear, making him shiver.

Castiel snorts. "Oh, yes. I picked the sea view to make it extra romantic."

"Aw, baby. You're such a big sap…"

The pet name goes right to his heart, squeezing his chest so tightly, he can hardly breathe for a few seconds. Luckily, Bobby chooses then to emerge through the swinging door with two plates of deliciousness in his hands.

Dean steps out of his personal space to grab the food. "You're a saint, Bobby!"

"Ah, shaddup… Just don't go tellin' your mom I'm givin' you special treatment, alright?"

"My lips are sealed."

Castiel quietly thanks Bobby as well, and then they sneak out onto the porch to eat. It's getting pretty late into the year, so the sky is already fairly dark at half five. The stars have yet to appear, but everything is engulfed in a sea of dusty blue, and the pale streaks of orange beyond the horizon are the first tell-tale signs of the sun setting. They watch in complete silence, chewing on their burgers, as the sun slips between the buildings, effectively cloaking the parking lot in near-darkness. By the time the streetlamps flicker on in the distance, Castiel has only taken a bite out of burger, which is pretty much cold by now.

"Man," Dean says on the edge of a sigh. "I haven't watched the sun set like that since me and Sammy were kids…"

Castiel smiles. "You love your brother?"

"He's the best thing that ever happened to me," Dean grins, more to himself than anything. "But don't tell him that… His head's big enough as it is, what with that gigantic brain of his."

"Ah, so Sam got all the intellect in the family. That explains a lot."

"Dick," Dean shoves him with his shoulder, but he's still grinning widely. "I'm pretty smart too, ya know!"

"I'm sure you are," Castiel says genuinely. He has a feeling there's much more to Dean than meets the eye. He's not just your typical, attractive hoodlum; he has a good heart, and a boyish sense of humour that takes him back to his childhood. Being with Dean seems to lessen the weight on his shoulders and makes him feel like a kid again, without the stress and responsibility that comes with having a family that considers him an abomination.

Dean seems to sense what he's thinking about, because he discreetly slips his hand into Castiel's and squeezes, brushing his thumb over his knuckles soothingly.

"This is nice," Castiel says in a quiet voice, careful not to disturb the peacefulness of the evening.

"Yeah," Dean hums. "Sure is."

Even with the solid warmth of Dean's hand in his own, an involuntary shiver racks his body as a chill sweeps through the air. They've been sat here for over an hour, just sitting in silence, watching the world go by. It should be awkward; they've hardly exchanged two words since they finished their food. But, for some reason, Castiel feels more content than he has in a long time, not since his father was still around, and his family was happy and complete. Just being with Dean is enough to put him at ease. Maybe it should worry him, how quickly Dean is becoming a part of his life, but instead, it fills him with relief. It's like finally getting to breathe after years of living underwater. Dean makes him feel safe to be himself, to let loose for once.

"You cold?"

Castiel snorts at the chivalrous question. "Let me guess… you've got a letterman jacket to lend me?"

"Yeah, not quite," Dean grins, slipping one arm out of his leather jacket and draping it over Castiel's shoulder, giving him no choice but to move in closer. "This okay?"

They're pressed against each other so closely that Castiel can literally feel Dean's body heat radiating through his shirt. A sigh of pleasure escapes his lips, rousing a suggestive wink out of Dean (to which Castiel gulps and blushes - again). Everything is strangely perfect, like the calm before the storm. He knows he should just allow himself to be happy for once, but he can't ignore the distinct feeling that something isn't quite right…

That is until Dean starts to lean in.

His green eyes flicker down to Castiel's lips, then back up in a flash. Castiel knows what he's doing; he's asking him if it's okay, if he's allowed to do this.

He nods his head. "Yes."

And then Dean's lips are touching his. The contact is feather-light and brief - almost childish - but Castiel's heart is hammering in his chest, even when Dean pulls away and drops his head. All he can do is stare at the evening sky over Dean's shoulder, slowly processing what just happened in his mind. He still hasn't said a word.

"I'm sorry," Dean suddenly says.

Castiel frowns at him. His mouth is drooped in that sad kind of way, just like earlier, but he still doesn't understand why.

"What's wrong? Was it… I mean, did you not like it?"

"What?" Dean looks at him incredulously, then huffs a laugh. "No, Cas… It's not that, I just… Are you sure you want this?"

"I told you I did."

"But what about after, when you have to leave? I know I said I didn't care about that, but… what if this turns into something… I dunno, what if it's harder to say goodbye than we first thought?"

Castiel shakes his head a little. "What's the point in worrying about that now?"

"I don't wanna make this tougher than it has to be."

"What? So you just want to be friends?" Castiel scoffs. "You know as well as I do, that can't work, Dean. Especially now."

"I know," Dean groans. "I know. I'm sorry, man, I just… Fuck, this is hard."

Castiel squeezes his hand. "If we stop this now… we'll never know what could've happened. I can't live that what if hanging over my head."

Dean drops his forehead onto Castiel's shoulder and sighs, rubbing his nose gently across the nape of his neck. Castiel simply rests his head against Dean's and waits. He waits for Dean to get past whatever it is he's worried about. He waits for the tight knot in his stomach to finally unwind. He waits for the strange feeling that something bad is about to happen to fade from the back of his mind. He waits, and he waits, and he waits…

"So, we're doin' this?" Dean lifts his head reluctantly, eyes suspiciously bright.

"I'd like to," Castiel smiles. "I want to know you, Dean."

"I'm not that interesting."

"I beg to differ," He shakes his head fondly, dipping down to press his lips to the corner of Dean's mouth. "You're incredible."

A dark blush blooms across Dean's face. "Geez, Cas… You're such a cheese ball, you know that?"

"And you're a stubborn idiot who can't take a compliment."

"Hey! That's not -"

He interrupts whatever pointless babble Dean was sure to come out with by silencing the other boy with his mouth. He swallows the squeak of surprise and rakes his hand through short strands of golden brown hair, tugging Dean so close that their teeth clash in their desperation. When Dean slips a leg between his thigh, practically climbing into his lap, Castiel can feel the distinct weight of arousal pressing against his leg. The thought that Dean is already turned on immediately makes him hard, and soon they're gasping for breath and rutting against each other like a couple of horny teenagers.

Oh, yeah. They are a couple of horny teenagers.

"Dean," He bites back a moan. "N-Not here… Not now."

Dean pulls back, trying to catch his breath with huge gulps of air. "Sorry, sorry… I just got a little carried away there."

"Me too," Castiel chuckles hysterically. "What is happening to me?"

"You're havin' fun, Cas."

He can't help but grin, because Dean is right. He doesn't have the urge to scratch the scab on his arm until it bleeds, or pull so hard on his hair that tears spring to his eyes, just to ground himself. He knows where he is right now. He knows what's happening, and why. He doesn't need to remind himself with pain. He has Dean, and if that isn't reminder enough that not everything in this godforsaken world is a mess, then what is?

He's about to lean in again, but the distant sound of something crashing makes him jump. Dean gets to his feet wordlessly, letting his jacket drop to the ground as he looks back at the house.

"What was that?" Castiel asks in a whisper.

Before Dean can answer, someone comes bursting through the door, and that horrible feeling instantly returns.

"Gabriel?" He stands up beside Dean. "What's wrong? Is that blood?"

Gabe is standing in the doorway, hunched over with his hands on his knees. There's a stain of something red on the collar of his shirt, and his eyes are wide and desperate as he lifts his head to meet their gaze again.

"It's not my blood," He wheezes. "Dean, you have to come."

"What the hell's happenin', Gabe?"

Castiel brushes his fingers against Dean's hand, in the hopes that the small touch will be enough to calm him down. It doesn't work.

"What the fuck is goin' on?!"

"It's Jo," Gabe says quietly, his words barely audible above the muffled cries coming from inside the building. "It's bad, Dean… It's real bad."

And with that, everything stands still.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the late update, guys! Things have been busy in school at the moment... Please leave a review if you can! Your feedback means a lot to me :)**

There's a stain on the ground where Michael's body lay just days before. Castiel finds himself lost in the dark brown patch - now a permanent reminder of what happened, and just how far it went. He crouches down, touches his fingers to the discoloured wood, and breathes in deep. He can still picture everything clearly, as if his mind is playing it back to him exactly. The memory of Jo - wild and screaming as she smashed Michael's head against the floor - makes him shudder yet again. He wishes he could handle this better, but the truth is, he's a nervous wreck. He hasn't seen that much blood since… Well, not for a long time.

It took two grown men to pull Jo off of him, and then the help of Bobby to cart her out of the room and into the car waiting for her outside. Michael just lay there, limp as a ragdoll, until the medics came rushing in. It was all a bit of blur, but he can still remember the urgency in their voices, barking orders over the sea of bodies surrounding them. Castiel remembers clinging to Dean's arm as well, trying to keep him calm as he reached out frantically for Jo. He brushed away the tears rolling down his freckled cheeks, and whispered words of comfort against the shell of his ear. He's not sure it made any difference, but being close to Dean was enough to keep him grounded throughout the mayhem. Maybe it was selfish, holding onto him like some orphaned child in the middle of a warzone, but Castiel needed to focus on something, or he's certain he would've lost his mind.

He hasn't seen Dean since they took Jo away. He tried texting at first, but all of his messages were simply ignored, so he thought it best to give him some space. It's killing him not being able to comfort Dean when he needs it most, but he knows how grief works in different ways. When his father left them, his mother spent her time either crying or drinking - or both. But Castiel didn't allow himself to crumble like she did, for Anna's sake. He picked up the pieces of their shattered family and tried his best to create some semblance of a home for his sister. It was hard most of the time, but he doesn't regret a single second of it. If he'd simply given up, then what would have happened to Anna? She would've grown up lonely and bitter, forever blaming her family for turning their backs on her. He was strong because he had to be - for her. But at the same time, he doesn't resent his mother for being weak. Maybe it's misguided loyalty - or even naivety - that makes him think this way, but he still loves his mom, still believes she'll return some day. Nor does he resent Dean for ignoring him. Castiel hasn't allowed himself to care for anyone other than Anna for solong that it almost feels like someone's twisting a knife into his gut for every second he's gone. But he won't blame him, won't pressure him into getting better and coming back. If he really cares about Dean, then he'll wait for him.

The door to the canteen opens, and Castiel springs to his feet immediately. He's not supposed to be in this room at all, let alone after hours. Bobby closed it off after… well, you know. Until things settle down again (and the stain is scrubbed away), food will be eaten in the hall. Castiel can't even step foot in there without thinking about his date with Dean, and thinking about that makes him think about Jo, which ends up making him feel anxious, which leads to awkward coughing fits in which he reaches blindly for his inhaler, even though he hasn't had an asthma attack in years.

But luckily, it's not Bobby or any of the night staff standing in the doorway. It's Gabe.

"Hey, kiddo," He says with a smirk that doesn't reach his eyes.

Castiel lowers himself to the ground again. "Hey, yourself. Why are you here?"

"Ah, you know… just wanderin' the halls and all that."

"It's after hours."

"And yet, here you are."

"I can't sleep," Castiel swallows a nasty taste in his mouth and sighs, glancing at the stain on the floorboards again.

"Is this about Jo?"

He doesn't say a word, but he hopes his silence is answer enough.

"You shouldn't worry about her," Gabe shrugs as he strolls across the room to join him. He's obviously aiming for nonchalance, but his words fall flat instead. "Jo's a firecracker. She's done crap like this plenty of times before."

Castiel scoffs. "She's bashed someone's brain in before? I find that hard to believe."

"Okay, fair enough… She's never done anything quite this, uh… extreme, if ya like. But she knows how to the work the system. She'll be back."

"Michael's still in hospital," Castiel hisses. "Jo hit his head so hard, they can't even get the blood stain off the floor!"

"She's not goin' inside, Cassy. Quit worrying about it."

"Jo needs help," He says, wincing at his own choice of words; that's what everyone says about nutters like them. Gabe either doesn't notice, or chooses to ignore it.

"We all need help in here. That's the point."

"You know what I mean."

Gabe rolls his eyes and reaches into his pocket, pulling out yet another lollipop (orange this time) and presenting it to Castiel as if it's the answer to all of his problems.

"Here. You need some sugar in your blood, kiddo. You're freaking out."

"I don't need sweets, Gabe! I need -" He stops himself before he can say it, because admitting it out loud would only confirm how weak he's become. This time last year, he didn't give a damn about anyone other than Anna. He didn't need anyone else. And yet, this void inside his chest can only be filled by one thing - or one person. It terrifies him, really, but that's the way it is.

"He'll come around."

Castiel ducks his head to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

"Dean and Jo… they're close. Like, really close. They grew up together," Gabe shakes his head sadly. "He probably just needs some time."

"Since when are you a therapist?" Castiel chuckles wetly.

"Don't knock it til you try it."

"Thank you," He nods his head stiffly. "For, um… for being here."

"That's what friends are for, Cassy."

He smiles at Gabe - a genuine smile that doesn't make his face ache with the effort. Mary was right about having friends; they do help. He's not sure how he'd cope without the likes of Gabe, Charlie and Kevin here to keep him relatively sane.

"Do you really think Dean will come back?"

Gabe raises his eyebrows. "Have you seen the way he looks at you? He'll be back, don't worry."

"He doesn't look at me in any -"

"Bitch, please!" Gabe scoffs. "You two could make a porno with all that eye-sex!"

Castiel rolls his eyes, but he can't help but smile. Dean feels more like an angel than a crush, swooping into his life when he was on the brink of giving up. On paper, their relationship shouldn't even work; they're polar opposites, for a start - Dean confident and gorgeous, and Castiel just an awkward mess. But there's something there that just clicks. From the moment he saw Dean, it was like the walls he's tried so hard to keep up for all these years slowly started to crumble. He's not a believer in 'love at first sight' and all that, but he can't deny the instant connection they had.

"How did my life turn into a teenage soap opera?"

Gabe blinks at him for a moment, then doubles over with laughter. "Oh, Cassy! I love you."

"Thanks," He shrugs a little, not quite sure what to say.

His eyes creep back to the stain beneath his fingers, he wonders where Jo is right now. Probably hauled up in some boxy room with a bunch of know-it-all 'experts' scribbling notes about her down in their journals, trying to decide what to do with her next. God, he hopes Michael pulls through with nothing but a scar. If he were to… well, to not recover so kindly, then there's only one place Jo would be going.

"I wonder how Michael's doing," He says, in an effort to voice his concerns without actually saying them outright.

Gabe unwraps a lollipop and slips it into his mouth. "He's not gonna kick the bucket, okay? Stop worrying, Cassy."

"If it is serious, then she won't be coming back. You do realize that, don't you?"

"I'm not as dumb as I look," Gabe links their arms together, gently pulling him to his feet and away from the stain. "C'mon, kiddo. That's enough drama for one night, don't you think?"

"I hope she's okay," He mumbles as Gabe guides him out of the room. "I hope they're both okay. I really do…"

It's then that his fatigue hits him hard, making his knees buckle. Luckily for him, Gabe is there to catch him before he lands on his ass. His eyelids feel like tiny little weights, slowly forcing his eyes closed. By the time they make it back to his room, he can hardly move. Gabe rolls him rather inelegantly onto his bed, tucks him in, and then leaves with a small wave of his hand. He doesn't even have time to thank him; he's asleep before his head hits the pillow.

* * *

"How are you feeling today, Castiel?"

"Fine," He mutters, too busying picking at the fraying armrest to pay attention to any of Mary's therapeutic mumbo-jumbo.

"You seem pretty distracted for a guy who's just fine."

"Well, I am."

Mary narrows her eyes and hums, like she's mentally sifting through his lies. "It's been a very difficult week for all of us."

"You're talking about Jo," He tries to keep his voice neutral, but he can't hold back his curiosity completely. He knows that Dean and Jo have been best friends for a long time, so it only makes sense that Mary would know Jo almost as well as her son. And yet, she seems perfectly fine discussing what happened; it's like she doesn't even care.

"I suppose I am," She walks around the front of her desk and leans against it. She doesn't hop onto it like she usually does; apparently this session requires a more sombre tone.

"I don't think… I don't really want to talk about that right now."

Mary nods. "That's okay, Castiel. You don't have to explain yourself. What would you like to talk about?"

"Nothing," He says, then rolls his eyes at his own stubbornness, scrubbing a hand over his face with a frustrated sigh. "I don't know!"

"Something's bothering you?"

"A lot of things are bothering me at the moment."

"But something in particular? Something… quite personal?"

He laughs sourly. "Isn't everything personal?"

"In a sense, I guess it is. But not everything has to be a secret, Castiel. You can talk to me."

"I know I can."

"Well," A strange kind of smile tugs at her lips. "That's good to hear. Refreshing, actually, after so many weeks of hostility."

Castiel flushes. He's been an ass to Mary this whole time. He doesn't mean to be, but there's something about her unrelenting kindness that makes him feel small. It's like she has so many expectations she wants him to meet, and all of them are impossible. Every time she smiles at him, or praises his progress, he wants to shake her until she stops believing in him. He hates living under the pressure of someone's trust; it makes the fear of disappointing them seem all the more sharper.

"I'm sorry," He turns away. "I'm not always so… I mean, I can be nice."

Mary shakes her head fondly. "Oh, Castiel. I was only joking."

"Doesn't change the fact that I'm awful at this," He waves his hand in the empty space between them. "People, talking… I struggle with it."

"We can't all be social butterflies, you know?"

"But it's the confident people who do well in life, isn't it? The ones who are sure of themselves."

Mary folds her arms. "You're not sure of yourself?"

"I didn't… That's not what I said."

"You didn't use those exact words, no, but you strongly implied it."

"Who cares whether I'm sure of myself or not?" He huffs in frustration, sitting a little higher in his chair to try and balance things out. Mary still stands above him though, arms folded and brow pinched.

"Well, I care, for one thing. And I'm sure your friends do, too."

"Stop trying to find some deeper meaning behind everything I say," Castiel sighs. "I'm fine, alright? I'm better than before. I won't try and… I mean, I won't be weak this time."

"Weakness is human nature."

Castiel looks down at his hands again. "That's what the weak people say."

"You don't have to be strong all the time, Castiel."

"Yeah, I do."

Mary hesitates before taking the empty chair beside him. It's the first time he's seen it filled by anyone other than himself, and something about that makes him feel dizzy. He swallows thickly and turns away.

"Your childhood was snatched away from you so soon," Mary says in a soft voice, almost as if she's trying to soothe him. "You became Anna's guardian at such a young age… Having your world turned upside down like that, it's enough to make even the strongest people have moments of weakness now and again."

"Looking after my sister didn't turn my world upside down," He spits, even though he can see where Mary is coming from. He just doesn't want to admit to being spineless.

Mary draws in a breath. "I know you must miss her, Castiel. You remind me of Dean… He's so fiercely protective of his brother, always looking out for him and making sure he's safe. But he's still just a child himself, and there's nothing wrong with that."

"I'm not Dean," Castiel can feel his heartbeat quicken at the mention of his name. "I don't have a family who loves me, okay? I can't afford to be a child!"

"Or maybe you're just afraid of what will happen if you start acting your age."

Castiel wrinkles his nose. "What do you mean?"

"I think you're scared of losing her," Mary studies his face closely. "I think you're worried that, if you were to surrender your role as Anna's carer, she wouldn't need you anymore."

"Well, you think wrong."

"This personal issue of yours," Mary leans back in her chair, frowning slightly. "Do you think it makes you feel like less of an adult, and more like a child?"

"I don't have a personal issue! You're just hearing what you want to hear, as per usual!"

"I'm not sure that's true," Mary shakes her head. "But whatever it is that's bothering you, you clearly don't want to discuss it with me."

"Gee, thanks for the taking the hint."

"But… I do think you should talk to someone about it. Maybe your friends."

Castiel considers this for a moment. He knows that Kevin, Charlie and Gabe all approve of his relationship with Dean, and that they'd be more than happy to offer him advice. But what with everything that happened with Jo still fresh in their minds, his problems feel rather petty in comparison. It wouldn't feel right whinging to them right now.

"Yeah, maybe," He shrugs, just to get Mary off his back.

She doesn't seem convinced, but she stands up and gives him a smile all the same. "I think talking about it will do you the world of good."

"Mhm."

"But don't push yourself, okay? Grieving can be a long, difficult process… You won't feel better overnight."

Castiel scoffs. "She's not dead."

"You can still be grieving her loss though."

He drops his head to avoid Mary's penetrating gaze. He thinks back to the blonde girl who approached him on his first day at Opal Grove, guitar slung over her shoulder, chocolate brown eyes wide and bright. She didn't speak much at first, just forced him to listen to song after song until she got bored of playing (which was never, really). Jo made him feel welcome and wanted, and her not being here feels wrong in so many ways.

So, yes. He is grieving her loss. But he won't admit to that, just like he won't admit to worrying about Dean every night, or wondering if Anna is safe every single second of every day. There are many things he won't admit to, but Mary doesn't need to know that.

"Can I go now?"

Mary, seemingly sensing how tired of this he suddenly is, thankfully nods her head. "I suppose that's enough for today. I'll see you next week?"

"It's not as if I have a choice," He mumbles as he heads for the door.

Outside in the corridor, he leans against the wall and lets out a long-awaited sigh. He lets his shoulders relax, and his eyes slip closed, and tries to forget where he is for a moment. He wonders what life would be like now if his dad hadn't left, and his mom wasn't a drunk, and his sister wasn't living with their bigot of an uncle.

He tries to imagine a life where he'd never met Dean Winchester.

It should be easy, really. He's only know him for a few weeks, and they've only shared a handful of conversations in that time. But trying to erase the memory of those lips against his, and those eyes peering at him through the smoke of a cigarette in the cold autumn air is impossible. He can't seem to picture a world without Dean in it.

"Please come back," He whispers to no one. "Please don't leave me…"

When he feels his legs begin to tremble, and the wet sting of tears in his eyes, he forces himself to take a breath and head back to his room. The last thing he needs is someone catching him crying in the middle of the corridor. He needs to be the strong one. He needs to get a grip.

"I'm okay," He lies to himself as he opens his door with shaking hands. "I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay…"


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel takes Mary's advice. Well, in a way. He spends most of his time with his friends, trying to keep himself busy, be he doesn't talk to them about Dean, or his growing paranoia that he's never going to see him again (it's been over a week since Jo left, and he still hasn't heard from him at all). He finds that distracting himself with their company is much better than moping around in his room, or sneaking off to the cafeteria after hours to stare at the blood stain that _still_ hasn't been cleared off the floor yet.

He's more than grateful that Gabe has chosen not to mention what happened the other night; he's not sure he could handle the teasing. Being practically carried to bed by someone almost half your size doesn't exactly look good. Plus, he doesn't want to talk about Dean again. Just thinking about him, and the fact that he's not here, makes him want to kick the walls.

"UNO, bitches!" Charlie suddenly cries, slapping down a number five.

Castiel picks up a card from the other pile with a groan.

"Don't worry, Cassy. I've got this," Gabe waggles his eyebrows before shoving a draw four in Charlie's face. "Take that, red!"

"Oh, c'mon! No fair!" She pouts. "I was so close, dude!"

"This game ain't about being _fair_ , sister."

"You suck," Charlie mumbles, collecting four cards from the pile rather grudgingly.

Castiel shakes his head fondly. "What colour?"

"I'm gonna go with _blue_."

"Nice choice," Castiel smirks, presenting a draw two with mock innocence. "Is that alright? Can I do that?"

Charlie falls back snickering. Even Kevin (who's busy picking at the carpet in the corner) manages a laugh. Gabe simply shoots him a glare and picks up his cards.

"I thought you said you've never played before."

"I haven't," He says with a shrug. "It's just not that difficult to grasp."

"Well, it's mostly _luck_ , anyway."

Charlie snorts. "Don't be such a sore loser, Gabe!"

"Hey! I haven't lost yet!"

"Don't speak so soon," Castiel says when it comes back to him, placing his second to last card on the centre pile. "I believe that's _UNO_ , right?"

Gabe throws his cards across the table (which doesn't really matter, because Castiel wins with his next move) and then disappears to go get some snacks. Charlie shouts 'loser' at the top of her voice, then comes to sit next to Castiel on the floor.

"What's up, Cas? You seem a little down."

"Do I?" He says as nonchalantly as he can, turning away to tidy up the cards.

Charlie sighs. "Don't lie to me!"

"I'm not lying to you."

"I'm like a human lie detector, okay? So don't even try to fool me!"

"That's very impressive, Charlie, but I'm fine."

Charlie deflates a little. "What's wrong? Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you!"

"Then why won't you tell me?"

Castiel swallows hard and looks away, flicking the frayed edge of a yellow number seven. He wants to talk to Charlie more than anything, but he knows that she's dealing with her own stuff right now. Ever since Jo was taken away, Charlie's been strangely quiet (well, _less loud_ is probably a better way of wording it, but whatever). He can't be certain, but he's pretty sure that her little 'crush' on Jo is more extreme than she let on, so he can only imagine how she must be feeling at the moment.

"It's nothing," He bites his tongue. "I really _am_ fine."

But Charlie isn't giving up that easily.

"Is it Jo?" She asks, and he can tell she's trying to keep her face neutral. "Because if it is, you can talk to me, Cas. I… Well, I miss her, too."

"I know you do, Charlie. Everyone misses her, and that's why I can't talk about this right now."

Charlie wrinkles her nose. "Just because Jo's gone, doesn't mean we all have to put our lives on hold until she comes back! She wouldn't want us to mope around the place like this. And she _definitely_ wouldn't want you dealing with stuff on your own."

Castiel tosses the cards across the floor and sighs, dropping his head into his hands. He's so tempted to pull on his hair until fresh pain ripples through his scalp, but he somehow manages to resist. Maybe it's because he's come too far to fall back again, or maybe because both Charlie and Kevin are looking at him with equal amounts of concern. Either way, he lets his fingers slowly uncurl, and lifts his head to meet their wary gazes.

"It's Dean," He says in defeat.

Charlie's face crumples with sympathy, but a smile touches her lips, too. "I figured as much. He still hasn't called?"

"No," Castiel shrugs. "I want to give him time… I really do. But it's hard, you know? Not being there for him. I feel like I should be doing something."

"You care about him, Cas. I get that."

"But why hasn't he called, Charlie? Do you think he doesn't want to speak to me?" He hates the way his voice catches slightly, as if he's on the edge of tears. "Maybe he doesn't… I mean, what if he doesn't feel the same way? What happened with Jo has probably made him realize how stupid and _sudden_ this is. He probably regrets kissing me, doesn't he?"

"Dude, you need to chill."

"And how _exactly_ am I supposed to 'chill'?"

Charlie cocks a brow at his aggressive finger quotations, then rolls her eyes. "Dean _likes_ you, okay? Is that really so hard to understand?"

"Yes, it is! Especially when I haven't heard from him in over a week!"

"I know it's hard, Cas… But like you said, he just needs some time. Jo's his _best friend_. He's probably suffering more than us."

Charlie scrubs at the corner of her eye, and it's only then that he notices the stray tear glistening on her cheek. He sighs, shoulders sagging, and ducks his head. _This_ is why he didn't want to bring up Dean; it was selfish of him to assume that Charlie was in a good place again. It's _him_ who should be doing the comforting. _Not_ her.

"Charlie… I'm so sorry," He reaches forward to touch her shoulder, but decides against it. "I'm being an insensitive ass again, aren't I?"

"Shut up," Charlie rolls her eyes with a sniff. "You're not an _ass_ , okay?"

"Well, I feel like one."

"That's just your dick of a brain trying to make you all paranoid," Charlie smirks. "Happens to me all the time."

Castiel scratches the back of his head irritably, as if searching for some kind of trapdoor to dispel all of the self-deprecating thoughts rattling about up there. His fingers brush over the aging scabs clustered on his scalp, and his mind jolts back to memories of locking himself in his room, screaming silently into his lap with fistfuls of blood-slick hair.

"I'm not okay," He says quietly. At first he thinks maybe Charlie hasn't heard him, but then a hand rests on his knee, and he allows himself one, single tear to slip down his cheek.

Charlie wipes his face with a shrug of her shoulders. "I'd be more worried if you _were_ okay."

"This place was supposed to make me better… not turn me into this _mess_."

"C'mon, dude. You're not a _mess_ just because you're crying."

"I'm a mess for crying over a boy I've known for less than a month," Castiel says with a humourless smile. "How the hell did I let him get to me so much?"

Charlie shrugs again. "I guess we don't get to decide who we grow close to… I sure as heck didn't choose to fall for a straight chick."

Castiel splutters a startled laugh, leaning into Charlie unconsciously. She loops an arm around his shoulders and rests her head against his. Kevin soon joins them on the floor - not joining in with the touching, but sitting silently by their side.

"Thank you," Castiel whispers to them both.

Kevin simply nods his head, and Charlie playfully flicks him on the nose.

When Gabe finally returns with a box of Lucky Charms, he doesn't say a word, just drops down onto the floor and throws his arms around the rest of them. Castiel isn't sure how long they sit there - the four of them holding onto each other almost desperately - but it's dark by the time Bobby calls them down for dinner.

None of them mention it again - not that they have to. For the first time in a long time, Castiel genuinely believes that he's not alone. The friendships he's formed at Opal Grove are like unspoken promises; no matter what happens, they'll always have his back.

* * *

 _Screaming. That's all he can hear._

 _He's winding his way through the corridors, searching for someone… he's not quite sure who. No matter how fast he runs though, he never seems to end up anywhere. The floor stretches out ahead of him, turning off sharply in a different direction, but there's no finishing line in sight; there are no doors or windows, no pictures hanging on the walls. It's just an endless expanse of white. He's drowning in a sea of pure nothingness, with no destination in mind._

 _Then the ground seems to open up, and he's suddenly falling..._

 _Down, down, down._

 _His feet hit something hard, his spine bending forwards in an awkward roly-poly. Something warm licks at his face, and he scrambles to sit upright. He touches his cheek hesitantly, brings back red-stained fingers._

 _Blood._

 _He looks back at the ground and sees his reflection in the rippling pool of crimson. Only, it's not_ just _his reflection staring back at him. There's another boy - a boy with round, bottle-green eyes and full lips. He knows he's seen him before, but for some reason, he can't seem to place him._

 _He flits his gaze over the face, following the map of freckles arching over his nose. It's only when the boy quirks a smile that he remembers, and his chest clenches painfully._

 _"Dean," He tries to say, but no words come out._

 _Then, in the blink of an eye, he's not sitting in blood, but on a body. Vacant, deathly-cold eyes follow him as he springs into the air and races across the room. He doesn't make it far before running into someone's arms though. He's falling down again, but something stops him from reaching the floor. There's hands gripping his shoulders, keeping him on his feet. He can smell the faint scent of gasoline lingering in the air._

 _"What," He squeaks, turning his head to find Dean holding onto him. "Dean? What are you doing? Where am I?"_

 _The arms wrapped around his waist tighten ever-so-slightly, and he thrashes wildly in an attempt to escape their hold. He turns away from Dean, following the arms up to a pretty face surrounded by waves of blonde hair._

 _"Jo?"_

 _Dean snickers against the nape of his neck as the blonde girl finally lets go to lift her arms above her head. There's a guitar in her hands - the neck snapped in half with bits of string sticking out like broken veins. Her chocolate brown eyes well up with tears as she swings the guitar down with enough force to kill a man._

 _But before it can crush him, everything disappears, and the world goes black._

* * *

Castiel wakes up with a gasp. Everything is dark and quiet, except the frantic beating of his heart and the sound of his breath punching out of his lungs. He slaps a hand against his chest, trying to calm himself down, and darts his eyes around the empty room.

He pats the covers thrown over his legs, feeling for anything warm and wet, but there's nothing there. Just like there's no one standing over his bed with a broken guitar, ready to smash his brains in, or a dead body with vacant, unseeing eyes lying beneath him. But for some reason, he can't seem to wrap his head around that, and he's slipping out of his bed before his mind can catch up.

"It was just a nightmare," He murmurs to himself as he flicks on the lights. "Nothing to worry about."

The sun has yet to rise, but the clock reads 5:43, so Castiel sees no point in trying to get back to sleep. With a yawn, he reaches into his drawers and grabs the first thing his hand touches - something warm and soft and strangely unfamiliar as he slips it over his shoulders. The lights are still off, so he can't see what it is he picked up, but there's something about the cool texture on the outside that makes his heart ache. He brushes his fingers over the too-long sleeves that swallow his hands completely; whatever it is, it must be a couple sizes too large.

Shrugging, he closes his drawer and steps out into the corridor. If it's been a quiet night, Bobby usually gets up at 6ish (he hears him rattling about every morning), so he's probably the first one awake right now.

It's eerie, wandering through the corridors alone. He can't help but think about his nightmare earlier, when all the doors and windows disappeared, leaving no way of escape. He takes a breath and purposely seeks out an exit to calm his nerves. His eyes land on a bedroom door with the number 6 hanging at an awkward angle. It's Lucifer's room, if he remembers rightly. He's never been in there before (obviously), but he's seen the sullen older boy disappearing in there with his smiley face mug on numerous occasions.

He keeps going to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water before heading for the porch. He spends a lot of his time out there now, just watching over the buildings in the distance. It reminds him of Dean, which fills him with a bittersweet kind of happiness. He doesn't expect the door to be unlocked, so it's a surprise when it slides open with ease. Surely Bobby wouldn't keep the doors open at night? Unless he's already up…

Castiel steps outside cautiously, gripping his glass tightly as if half a pint of water will protect him from knifed robbers or something. Needless to say, he's not exactly thinking clearly at this moment in time.

"Hello?" He calls out hesitantly, surprised by the croakiness of his own voice. He clears his throat and tries again. "Is anyone there?"

Sure enough, there's a dark figure leaning against the wall. Castiel freezes for a moment, heart hammering in his chest, then ducks back inside. He flattens himself against the door and closes his eyes. He places his glass on the side before it can slip through his trembling hands; if he's going to die in a moment, he'd rather not soak himself in the process.

But then a deep, groggy voice calls back to him - shockingly familiar in the way it sends shivers down his spine. "Cas? Cas, is that you?"

Castiel furrows his brow uncertainly and peers around the door, watching from a safe distance as the figure steps out from the shadows. Even in the low lights of the early autumn morning, he instantly recognizes the bow-legged boy walking towards him.

"Dean? Oh, thank God…" A shuddered breath escapes his lips as he stumbles forward. "I thought… I-I didn't know what to think. Where the hell have you been?"

He reaches up to turn on the porch light, it's orange glow spilling over Dean's face. There's tear tracks running down his freckled cheeks, and dark purple half-moons smudged beneath his eyes. Castiel spots the cigarette wedged between his shaking fingers, dangerously close to touching his skin with every anxious jolt of his body.

"Dean," He says again, only softer. "You're shaking."

Without a moment's thought, he shrugs off the mysterious piece of clothing he grabbed from his drawer before, and drapes it over Dean's shoulders. It's only then that he recognizes the leather jacket - the one Dean used to keep them both warm on their date, just moments before everything went to hell. He remembers finding it on the porch after everyone left, discarded like a piece of garbage. It was the only decent reminder of their date, and all of the good stuff that came before the bad that night. He couldn't just leave it there, so he took it back to his room for safe-keeping. He stupidly thought that keeping the jacket would assure Dean's return. Maybe it worked, maybe it didn't… Either way, Dean's back now, and that's all that matters.

"Uh, sorry," He shakes his head, trying to steady his thoughts again. "This is yours… I kept it for you."

Dean stares dumbly at the jacket, then lifts his tear-filled eyes back to Castiel's face. His bottom lip is trembling slightly, and Castiel absently touches the pad of his thumb to that beautiful mouth.

"Shh," He tries a smile, but his jaw quivers with the effort. "I'm here, Dean. It's okay. I've got you. You're safe…"

Dean makes a wet, strangled noise, dropping his cigarette to the ground and grabbing Castiel's hand desperately.

"I'm sorry," He croaks. "Oh, God… I'm so sorry, Cas."

"No," Castiel swallows thickly, trying to keep the tears at bay. "Don't say that, Dean. You don't have to say that."

"I left you. I just… I-I left, and I… _Fuck_ , Cas. I don't know what's wrong with me!"

"There's nothing wrong with you. Do you hear me? There is _nothing_ wrong with you, okay? You're fine. You're perfect."

"I'm a wreck!"

"Don't," Castiel bites back a sob and pulls Dean into his arms. "Don't you ever think that, Dean. You're going to be okay. I'm going to help you."

Dean buries his face into Castiel's shoulder, back rising and falling with every muffled cry against his shirt. Castiel simply stands there and holds him. He holds him close to his chest and doesn't let go. He holds him through the tears as they dampen his shoulder. He holds him while the sun slowly rises in the sky, erupting in waves of pink and purple and faded orange that ripple through the clouds. He holds him until he stops shaking. He holds him so tightly - so _lovingly_ \- that every pulse of his heart rips through his own chest. He holds him like he's something precious. Something _beautiful_.

He holds him, and he holds him, and he holds him… Because that's what he needs right now.

"I've got you. It's okay. I'm here," Castiel rambles on softly, not even sure what's he's saying at this point anymore.

"She's gone," Dean manages to say, though his throat is raw. "She's gone, Cas. I-I could help her. I just… I couldn't do it. I wasn't good enough. I let her down."

"Shh, Dean. It's okay. It's going to be okay."

"I'm so fuckin' sorry, Cas."

"Please, don't."

"I need you, man. I need you so frickin' much… It scares the shit outta me."

"I know," Castiel presses a feather-light kiss below his ear, smiling against the scuff that scratches his lips. "I know, Dean. I missed you, too."

"I had to come back… I had to see you."

Castiel rubs his nose along Dean's jaw tenderly. "I'm glad you did."

"I'm not gonna leave again. I promise you, Cas. I… I was an idiot. I was so fuckin' _stupid_. I-I thought I could handle this by myself, but I can't… I just can't, ya know?"

Castiel cradles Dean's head and pulls him back gently, pressing his lips to the space between his eyes. He sweeps his thumb across Dean's cheek, allows him to lean into the touch. He looks at this boy - so gorgeous, even in sorrow - and thinks back to how empty this past week has been without him here.

"You don't have to handle this by yourself," He whispers carefully, as if uttering a spell. "You've got me, Dean. I'm not going anywhere."

Dean studies his face for a moment, then curls his hand around the back of his neck and pulls him in for a kiss. It's slow and deep - somewhere between the childish hesitance of their first kiss, and the desperate heat of their second. He wraps his arms around Dean's back, pulling them closer together, and sighs into his mouth. He could lose himself in this moment right here, he realizes, forever caught in this embrace.

 _When did I start spewing out this sappy nonsense?_

The rich smell of bacon drifts through the air, rousing Dean out of his kiss-induced haze. He smiles down at Castiel with twinkling green eyes and presses their foreheads together.

"You wanna grab some breakfast?"

Castiel finds himself grinning at the proposal for some reason; maybe it's because it's the first sign of the old Dean he's seen since what happened with Jo. His mind briefly cuts back to his nightmare from before, but Dean's gorgeous smile is enough to keep him grounded. It's probably best not to talk to Dean about his nightmares. He'll deal with them by himself. It'll be okay. There's no need to put him through that night all over again.

"I want pancakes," He says with a decisive nod of his head.

Dean smiles even brighter - the redness of his eyes all but gone - and bends down to kiss the top of his head. "Sounds like a plan."


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the late update! But this chapter is a longer one. Please leave a review if you can; your feedback means a lot to me. Thank you! :)**

* * *

It's quite surreal, sitting at the kitchen table with Dean and Kevin on either side of him, and Charlie and Gabe wrestling over a jar of peanut butter by the fridge. There's something strangely domestic about the situation. A smooth, peaceful smile is tugging at Dean's lips as he watches Kevin twist two pieces of string together, forming an intricate, weaving pattern that Castiel doesn't even _try_ to fathom. A large, freckled hand rests on his knee below the table, absently massaging the knobbly bone protruding through the stretched material of his semi-torn jeans. It was strange at first, wearing pants that didn't serve the purpose of covering your skin and keeping you warm, but Charlie and Gabe insisted they were _cool_. Well, Gabe actually described them as 'a sure-fire way of getting laid', but Castiel had simply blushed an ugly shade of pink at that particular piece of advice, and left the room to go get changed.

The wrestling match by the fridge abruptly comes to an end when Charlie gives Gabe a noogie (a term he learned from Dean, who apparently enjoys inflicting a similar brand of torture on his younger brother, Sam). Gabe springs back with a yelp, scowling at Charlie as he tries to smooth down the now-unruly locks of golden brown hair sticking up around his head. Charlie simply gives him a shit-eating smile, and proceeds to fetch a spoon from the cutlery drawer. Castiel can only shake his head with a faint smirk as she scoops up a generous spoonful of peanut butter and pops into her mouth, purposely moaning loudly with joy.

"You could just _share_ , you know?" Kevin says solemnly, eyes never leaving his nimble fingers.

Charlie swallows with more force than necessary. "One does not simply _share_ peanut butter, my dear Kevin."

"She's quotin' a movie," Dean whispers against his ear.

Castiel rolls his eyes, but doesn't resist leaning into Dean's space. "I may not be the most pop culture savvy person around, but even _I_ know that."

"I'm impressed," Dean says with a boyish glint in his eyes. "We'll make a nerd out of you yet."

"I don't doubt you will," Castiel can just _picture_ the movie nights Dean is bound to rope him into; the thought of snuggling under the covers with him - box of buttery popcorn sat between their legs - fills him with a giddy kind of happiness.

"So," Charlie somehow manages to squeeze her way between them both, effectively blocking Castiel's view of Dean's pretty, green eyes, and raises a mischievous brow. "Are you two like, _official_ now, or…?"

"Charlie!" Castiel admonishes.

Dean, on the other hand, simply slings an arm around his shoulders, planting a wet kiss against his cheek, and grins proudly as he says. "You bet your sweet ass we are!"

Castiel allows a small - albeit baffled - kind of smile to creep onto his face. The big mystery of what he and Dean have together has been playing on his mind for a while now, but he never dared to bring it up. He just figured that Dean would ask him to be his boyfriend when the time was right, but apparently they're long past that point.

"Congrats," Gabe raises his mug of coffee above his head in toasting. "How long's it been now? Five minutes?"

Charlie punches him in the shoulder. It's such a _Jo_ thing to do, and Castiel can't help but wish she was here to help him out of this awkward conversation.

"So, they're not taking it slow? Who the hell cares?" Charlie slips back in between them and hugs them both to her sides. "There's enough drama in this place as it is… We don't need a slow-burn, will-they-won't-they romance to weigh us down. I think's it's _great_!"

"Chill your beans, sister," Gabe slurps his coffee and grins. "I'm just messin' with them."

Dean dips his finger into the peanut butter (to which Charlie squeaks her disapproval) and sits back in his chair, reaching around Charlie to squeeze Castiel's arm affectionately. There's worry in his eyes, like he's not sure whether announcing their exclusiveness was the right move. It's not like they've discussed it or anything. But Castiel comforts him with a smile, touching his hand gently in a way of saying 'don't worry, it's fine'. Dean taking such pride in having Castiel as his own feels like a major achievement; if they weren't sitting in a room full of people right now, with Charlie sitting between them like a creepy voyeur, he'd probably pull his stupid, handsome face forward and kiss him breathless.

"Quit hogging the peanut butter!" Charlie swipes the jar off the table as Dean goes for another finger's worth.

Gabe scoffs. "Oh, yeah! Like _you_ can talk, red."

"I think you'll find it's _my_ peanut butter, so shut your face…"

"I think you'll find that's a _lie_ ," Gabe counters, reaching forward once again to try and steal the jar from Charlie's grasp. "There's no label on it, which technically means it belongs to _everyone_ , okay?"

"Oh, no one follows that stupid rule!"

"I don't think Bobby would appreciate you saying that, you know. He works hard on making those rules."

Charlie dodges another swipe and ducks underneath Gabe's arm. "Like _you_ follow the rules, Gabe! You're probably the worse one, in fact!"

Gabe gasps, feigning hurt. "Your words wound me…"

"And so will a jar of peanut butter to the face if you don't stop _grabbing_ me like that!"

Castiel snorts, watching in amusement as the battle for the peanut butter commences once again. Dean shakes his head with a smile and goes back to watching Kevin twisting strings, his hand soon finding its way back to Castiel's knee. Everything is good. Everything is _happy_. It's like his date with Dean all over again, when it seemed like nothing was capable of ruining things. He should've known he was being naïve, or maybe a little delusional.

The sound of someone slamming the back door closed, followed by footsteps shuffling towards the kitchen, grabs everyone's attention. Gabe promptly drops his hands from where they were clutching at Charlie's arms, and Charlie quickly hides the jar of peanut butter behind the bread bin. Everyone assumes a role of apparent innocence, just as Bobby steps into the room. He's wringing his battered old baseball cap between his hands, head low. He doesn't even acknowledge them as he trudges through and opens the fridge, hissing through his teeth at the sight of the empty shelves.

Then, as if snapping out of a dream, he turns to face them with a weary shake of his head. "I need to make a run."

Gabe's eyes positively light up. "Add peanut butter to your list, will ya?"

Charlie shoots him a glare and props her elbow onto the kitchen counter, discreetly blocking Bobby's view of the half-empty jar peeking out behind the bread bin.

"What you doin' here, boy?" Bobby turns his attention to Dean, raising an eyebrow at the hand casually resting on Castiel's knee.

Dean yanks his hand away, awkwardly palming the back of his neck as a blush blooms across his cheeks. "I was just, uh… Ya know, I haven't visited in a while. Thought I better show my face."

"Your mom know you're here, by any chance?"

"Um… probably not? Look, Bobby -"

"I ain't gonna say anything," Bobby rolls his eyes irritably. "She'll find out soon enough, anyway."

"What d'you mean?"

Bobby chuckles, his grey-blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "You boys ain't too _subtle_ , is all I'm sayin'. You keep givin' each other the lovey-dovey eyes, and it won't be long til she figures it out."

Castiel smiles shyly. There's no point in denying it, after all. Even with Dean's hand now sitting in his lap, he can still feel the ghost of his touch against his knee, like flames whispering against his skin. The urge to reach forward and grab his hand is almost terrifying. It's like he's an addict, itching for his next fix; Dean Winchester is like a _drug_ to him. It doesn't surprise him in the slightest that his feelings for the other boy are plain as day for everyone to see.

"Does she know about our date?"

Bobby shakes his head and heaves an impatient sigh. "I just _told_ you, didn't I? I ain't gonna say a word unless ya tell me to."

"Thanks, Bobby," Dean says with a blinding grin. "You're the best."

"Yeah, yeah… I know. Now quit kissin' my ass so I can go get some food for this place. Anyone would think I'm starvin' you all."

As if on cue, Gabe's stomach growls loudly. He presses a hand to his stomach, smiling apologetically, and shrugs. "Like I said. _Peanut butter._ I'm wasting away here, Bobby."

"Oh, I can see that," Bobby says, feigning sympathy.

Just before he leaves, he pauses in the doorway, apparently hesitating. Castiel can feel the same sense of dread trickling down his spine that he felt the day Jo left, just before Gabe came running out to him and Dean on the porch. Bobby scratches behind his ear, back still turned to them, then sags his shoulders and slowly spins around. There's a weariness in his eyes that immediately unsettles Castiel. Bobby is usually so thick-skinned; nothing bothers him. But the worry etching his face right now is a clear indication that something is wrong.

"Alright, kids," He says carefully, flicking the peak of his cap up. "I want ya to hear this from me first, so ya don't go nuts when it comes out…"

Dean scooches closer in his chair. "What's up, Bobby?"

"Well, the things is," Bobby clears his throat, then huffs at his own reluctance. "Michael's healed up pretty good, the doc says. He's been cleared from the hospital."

Everyone in the kitchen exchanges the same look - one mixed with fear, remorse, and something like hesitant relief. Michael being okay is a _good_ thing. Besides the obvious reasons, it also means that Jo is relatively safe in legal terms. But at the same time, his recovery is almost bittersweet. No one wants a reminder of that night, and seeing Michael walking around the house with whatever battle wounds Jo left him with will mean they'll _never_ be able to forget. Plus, there's the fact that he's an asshole, and the temptation to 'rip his lungs out', as Dean would say, is bound to be overwhelming. He's not likely to receive a warm welcome back by most of residents here, that's for sure.

"When are they lettin' him out?" Dean asks. Castiel can hear the crack in his voice, and he instinctively grabs for his hand to comfort him. Luckily, Dean squeezes back in appreciation, which is a good sign that he's not about to freak out again.

"That's the problem," Bobby scratches his chin carefully and sighs. "They gave him the good-to-go yesterday. He's coming back this afternoon."

* * *

Dean takes the news fairly well, Castiel's thinks, for someone who practically broke down after what happened with Jo. He thought that he, of all people, would want to kick Michael's smarmy face in as soon as he got the chance; Gabe is already devising the ultimate prank by way of avenging Jo's absence. But Dean doesn't even seem to care. He hasn't spoken a word about Michael since Bobby left to pick up some food. It's like he's purposely ignoring the fact that in just a few hours, the very person responsible for Jo being gone will be wandering these halls again, completely free to do what he wants. Unlike Jo, who's probably boxed up in some stuffy, white-washed room as they speak.

"Are you okay?" Castiel asks cautiously as they head back to his room. They _were_ hanging out with Charlie and Kevin in the hall, but Castiel could sense something wasn't quite right with Dean, so he suggested they go somewhere quiet to talk.

"I'm good," Dean says with a shrug. "I mean… we all knew he was gonna come back sooner or later, right? It's not like it's a _surprise_ or anything."

"Well, _I_ was surprised. I've been trying not to think about Michael much," Castiel bites his lip anxiously, vivid memories of his recurring nightmare flashing through his mind; those dark, vacant eyes staring blankly at him from the floor, writhing in a puddle of blood.

"It's not like Jo bashed his brains in," Dean says bitterly, snapping him out of his thoughts. "The hospital wasn't gonna keep him forever, were they?"

"I know, but… still. It's going to be strange, seeing him around again."

"Don't worry about it, Cas," Dean threads their fingers together absently. "It'll all go back to normal soon."

"What about Jo?"

"What about her?"

"Well," Castiel swallows; his throat feels lodged with some kind of sticky paste, making every word seem heavy and thick as it leaves his mouth. "I'm just saying. Things can't go back to normal until Jo comes back."

Dean smiles gently at that, pulling him closer by their joined hands. Castiel doesn't even bother checking if anyone is around before leaning into Dean's side. By now, almost everyone at Opal Grove knows about them; it's a secret to no one except Dean's mother. They haven't had that conversation yet, the one where they decide how to handle Mary. She's bound to find out one way or another, like Bobby said, but it's all about timing. If they spring this newfound relationship onto her too suddenly, she may react badly. From what Castiel can tell, she's a nice enough woman, but god knows how she might take the news of her son dating one of her own patients. As far as she's concerned, Castiel is probably nothing more than an angst-ridden teenager with a bad attitude and an even _worse_ way of dealing with his issues. Who the hell would want someone like that dating their son?

"You're right," Dean says, less defensively now. "I still can't believe she's gone, man…"

"She won't be gone forever."

"Yeah, I know. But me and Jo… we haven't spent more than two days apart since we were like, _twelve_. I'm kinda havin' withdrawal symptoms."

Castiel laughs. "Don't go telling her that."

"Oh, _god_ no… She'd probably write a song about my undying love for her."

"Careful," Castiel says with mock sternness. "You're going to make me jealous."

Dean grins widely, his eyes lighting up like burning copper. "What? You're not up for a little polyamory? Might spice things up a bit."

"Oh, so you think we need to 'spice things up', do you?"

Dean squeezes his fingers, mid-flex. "I love it when you do that air quotes thingy. It's frickin' adorable, ya know?"

"I'm not adorable," Castiel scowls.

" _Sure_ you're not, Cas. You're completely hideous, actually… Why am I dating you again?"

Castiel's throat tightens for a brief moment, but then he sees the mirth glittering in Dean's eyes, and pulls his hands back sharply. "Assbutt…"

"Aw, c'mon, Cas! Don't be like that," Dean laughs, reaching out for Castiel's arm.

"Nope! You don't deserve my affections."

"I promise I'll be good," Dean grabs his wrist and gently pulls him forward, letting their chests bump together. "Don't tell me you can resist this handsome mug."

Castiel tries to keep his lips pursed, but he can feel his resilience swiftly crumbling. A smile soon creeps onto his face, instantly earning a triumphant grin from Dean, who brings their mouths together slowly and precisely, like threading a needle.

Dean leans back and squeezes his arms. "You're gettin' good at that."

"What? _Kissing_?"

"Well, yeah. That too," He rolls his eyes, smiling as he runs his hands up to rest on Castiel's face, gently stroking his cheekbones. "But I meant _talkin_ '."

Castiel frowns a little. "What do you mean?"

"When I first met you… you were frosty, ya know? It was almost like talkin' to a brick wall at times."

Castiel flushes. "Ah, yes. What was it you said to me again? _Earth to weird guy_ , was it?"

"I know," Dean winces, and now it's _his_ turn to blush. "I was an ass to you… But, I've gotta say, I thought you were hot from the start."

"Oh, really?"

"Honest to god, Cas… I wanted to kiss you the first time I saw you."

Castiel snorts disbelievingly, fixing Dean with a 'don't bullshit me' kind of look.

" _And_ , if I remember rightly," Dean adds, completely ignoring the stormy expression on Castiel's face. "You stopped breathin' for a few seconds, started coughin' all over the place. I _literally_ took your breath away."

Even Castiel, in the midst of trying to act offended, can't help but smile at that. "You really are full of yourself, aren't you?"

"Wouldn't _you_ be with a bod like mine?"

"Shut up," Castiel grumbles half-heartedly, wiping the smug grin off of Dean's face with another kiss. He's found this method of silencing him _extremely_ effective so far.

Just as Dean begins to deepen the kiss, his tongue gliding over the seam of his lips, someone comes rushing around the corner, almost running into them. Castiel breaks away from Dean with a startled gasp, but quickly composes himself when he spots a familiar pair of golden eyes watching them amusedly.

" _Gabe_ ," He growls. "You need to stop interrupting us like that!"

"Uh, yeah… Hate to be a cock-block and all," Gabe shrugs his shoulders with little remorse. "But you guys should come quickly. Michael just got back."

Dean balks. "But… But Bobby said he's comin' back this _afternoon_. It's only one!"

"Well, that _does_ count as afternoon, kiddo."

"He's right," Castiel says, a little distractedly. "The afternoon is commonly considered to occur between twelve and six p.m., depending on what time the sun sets."

Dean blinks at him for a moment, then shakes his head. "Whatever! Who cares? I just… I-I didn't expect him to come back so soon."

"Sorry," Castiel tugs at his sleeve. "I ramble when I'm nervous."

"Calm down," Gabe steps between them with an uncharacteristic sense of authority. "Let's just get this over and done with."

Dean scoffs, but his eyes are swimming with fear. "Aren't you plannin' on dippin' his fingers in warm water while he sleeps or somethin' anymore?"

"All in good time, Dean-o. The best pranks are planned out meticulously…"

Castiel takes his hand with a sigh. "Gabe's right. We may as well go and see him. It's going to happen eventually.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Don't look so down, will ya?" Gabe elbows him playfully. "Jo left him with one _heck_ of a good scar… His pretty face ain't so pretty anymore."

Dean smiles reluctantly. "That's my girl."

Castiel chuckles, though he doesn't exactly approve of Dean and Gabe's enthusiasm over Michael being scarred for life. Not that his opinion matters at this moment in time. All he cares about is keeping Dean calm and contained - like putting a glass over a wild flame. The last thing anybody wants right now is more blood being spilt.

"Come on," Castiel squeezes his hand reassuringly. "Let's go see him."

Gabe leads them both to the foyer, where Michael is standing with an elderly woman with greying blonde hair (presumably his mother) and Bobby, who's speaking in a quiet, gruff voice to the woman. Her thin lips are turned down at the edges, a smudge of her pale pink lipstick glowing on her chin. She looks up when they walk in, a hesitant smile twitching her mouth as she turns to Michael.

"Oh, honey. Are these some of your friends?"

Michael practically snarls. " _Friends_? These fucking morons are buddies with the bitch that put me in the hospital!"

The woman flinches at Michael's choice of words, but quickly covers it with a shaky smile. "Oh, well. I'm sure they're nice boys…"

"A perverted midget and a couple of faggots? Oh, _sure_. They're fucking _great_ , mom. Fucking dicks, the lot of them… _Fuck_."

Castiel notices the way Michael stumbles over his swears, like he's struggling to keep them inside. His arm seems to twitch involuntarily as well, thrashing like a fish on the sand as it continually slaps his thigh. He only ignores it though, occasionally brushing it aside like it's nothing more than a nuisance. He feels a brief of pang of sympathy in his chest for this boy, who was born with the inability to control himself completely. It's soon swallowed up by a familiar, bitter distaste when Michael turns his cold, hard eyes onto Dean, spittle wetting his lips as he hisses like a feral cat defending its territory.

"Your girlfriend's out of control," He says, venom dripping from his words. "She could've fucking _killed_ me, you know?"

Dean swallows hard and clenches his fists. "She was upset, Michael."

" _Upset_? What, because she caught me fucking Ruby that one time? Or because I broke her precious little guitar? The fucking bitch can't even sing, for fuck's sake!"

"Watch it," Dean takes a step forward, eyes seething with pure, white-hot rage. "Don't talk about her like that, man, or I swear to god -"

Michael laughs sourly. "Like god gives a _fuck_ about your kind."

" _Michael_ ," His mother slaps a hand to her mouth, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"It's alright, ma'am," Dean says coolly, eyes never leaving Michael's face. "I've heard it all a thousand times before."

Castiel tightens his grip on Dean's hand. "I think maybe we should go…"

"That's right," Michael scoffs. "Seems like poor Castiel is feeling a bit thirsty. You better go fill him up."

Dean really _does_ lurch forward this time, breaking free of Castiel's hold and charging at Michael like a rouge bull. But Bobby is one step ahead of him, jumping in front of Michael before Dean can get the chance to punch him in the face. He keeps them both an arm's width away, cursing under his breath at Dean's strength. Castiel guessed from the thickset of his shoulders that Dean was probably a good fighter, but to see him in action is something else entirely. In theory, he should find it 'hot', but actually, it's terrifying.

"Dean!" He cries, racing forward to tear him away. "Calm down, Dean. It's alright. It's okay."

For a moment, he wonders if Dean is going to shove him off, but then his shoulders relax, and he steps away from Michael. He's panting fiercely, deep patches of colour spotting his cheeks. He's still staring at Michael, but his hands have dropped back to his sides.

"Get him outta here," Bobby says to Castiel, jerking his head down the hallway. "He needs a timeout."

"I'm not _six_ ," Dean protests with a frustrated huff.

Castiel tugs him away from the crowd, nodding a goodbye to Gabe as they disappear around the door. Dean doesn't fight his hold until they reach a narrow, empty corridor. Castiel allows him to shrug off the arm wrapped around his shoulders. He's still breathing erratically from his run-in with Michael, but the fury in his expression has dimmed somewhat.

"Dean," He approaches carefully. "Are you… okay? Should I find Charlie -"

"No," Dean snaps his head up, face lined with tension. "No, Cas. I just want you."

Castiel tries to ignore the surge of warmth inside of him, because now is _not_ the time for all that gooey, feelings nonsense.

"Well, I'm flattered," He says dryly.

Dean laughs, but his body is still shaking with anger. "I can't believe he said that… Did you _hear_ what he said? I can't _believe_ he said that!"

"Which part?"

"Well, _all_ of it!" Dean says heatedly, then comes to touch Castiel's cheek with a gentleness that completely contrasts with the savage look in his eyes. "I'm sorry he spoke to you like that, Cas. I should've done something."

Castiel touches the large hand cupping his face and smiles. "I'm pretty sure you were about to throttle him before Bobby got involved, so _that's_ something."

"But you know I'm not… I mean, you know I'm not only interested in… _that_ ," Dean says awkwardly, squirming in a way that's so unlike him. He's lost all of the charm and boyish confidence he usually carries around. All Castiel can see right now is someone endearingly shy and bashful, too nervous to say the dreaded 's' word.

"What?" He says innocently. "You're not only interested in 'filling me up'? Hm… And here I thought you were using me for my good looks."

Dean looks surprised for a moment, but then his eyes crease with laughter. Castiel is still adjusting to this whole _conversation_ thing. Anna has always said that his sense of humour is an acquired taste - doused in sarcasm so rich, it sometimes comes across as serious. But Dean seems to _get_ him; he always laughs at his jokes (even if they're unintentional), and he never gets offended by his blunt way of speaking. It's so easy talking to him.

"Ah, Cas," Dean wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. "How the hell d'you always know how to cheer me up?"

Castiel doesn't know to answer that, so he simply turns his face and presses a kiss against Dean's open palm. His hand is warm and dry, the taste of salt lingering on his lips as he pulls away to smile up at him again.

"I like cheering you up," He says honestly. "It makes me very happy."

Dean looks a little dazed, his green eyes glassy as he stares down at Castiel with a soft, unreadable expression. But just as Castiel thinks he's going to lean in for a proper kiss, the sound of heels clicking against the floor grabs their attention. They both spring apart as someone appears around the corner, blonde waves tumbling through her fingers as she attempts to pin her hair up into a bun on top of her head.

"Mrs. Winchester?" Castiel gasps.

Mary brushes a stray lock of hair out of her face impatiently. "What the hell is goin' on out here, Castiel? I - Oh," Her eyes suddenly land on Dean. "Honey? What are you doin' here?"

Before Dean can speak, Castiel cuts in. "Bobby told me to take him to the break room. He was trying to attack Michael in the foyer."

"Dean," Mary steps forward to touch her son's arm. "What were you thinking?"

"I… I guess I wasn't."

"Obviously not," She tuts, eyes drifting to Castiel with no small ounce of suspicion. She must notice his dilated pupils, the flush in his cheeks. "I'll take it from here, Castiel. Thank you for stepping in."

"Oh. Are you sure? Because I don't mind -"

"My son and I need to have a little _chat_ , if you don't mind."

Castiel gulps. He thinks back to his short time living with his uncle Zachariah, and how being called into his office for a 'chat' always meant trouble. He used to cover up the bruises on his arms with the makeup he stole from his mother's drawers before they moved; it was a shade too light, and he was no expert in cosmetics, but no one seemed to notice. Anna asked him about the stash of foundation under his bed once, but he came up with some ridiculous excuse about needing it for a school project. He didn't want her knowing how bad things were for him; as long as she was okay, nothing else mattered.

But the look in Mary's eyes isn't dark or threatening. She's angry, sure, but Dean doesn't seem afraid of her. He's hit once again with an overwhelming sense of need - for someone who loves him the way Dean's mother loves him, and the kind of affection that most parents have for their children. He's never had that before. Not in a long time, anyway.

"Alright then," He pauses for a moment, trying to catch Dean's eye, but Mary is still regarding him suspiciously, so he simply turns around and heads for his room.

Just as he turns the corner, Mary calls after him. "Oh, and Castiel? Remember to bring your diary to our next session, okay?"

Castiel freezes. Mary hasn't read any of his journal entries since he wrote about Dean a few weeks ago. If he brings it to her, she's finally going to figure it out. He could try and says that they're just friends, that Dean bumped into him on his first day here, and they've been hanging out ever since. But somehow, he doesn't think that story will be very convincing. Like Bobby said, he and Dean aren't exactly _subtle_.

"Oh. Um, sure," He says anyway. "See you in a few days."

Mary gives him a smile and turns back to Dean, who's frowning slightly - presumably confused about the frantic look on Castiel's face. He shakes his head, a silent promise that he'll tell him what's wrong afterwards, and starts walking in the opposite direction.

* * *

It's dark by the time Dean shows up again, tapping on his window in the middle of the night while Castiel is trying to sleep. At first, he thinks he's being burgled, but then he sees those green eyes staring expectantly at him through the glass. He lets out a sigh of relief and slips out of bed, lifting the window open as quietly as he can so Dean can clamber through.

"You're not supposed to be here," He points out. "It's after hours."

Dean gives him a look. "What? You gonna kick me out?"

"Of course not, ass-butt. Just… Just be quiet, okay?" He guides Dean over to the bed, as if he's not capable of making the journey by himself.

"I won't make a peep, Cas. I just wanted to see you."

Castiel smiles; he's been doing that a lot lately. "Stop trying to flatter me and shut up. You're covered in dirt."

Dean rolls his eyes, but allows Castiel to sit him down on the edge of the bed and strip his jacket off. Castiel grabs a warm, wet cloth from the bathroom and starts dabbing Dean's face gently, peeling off clusters of dry mud clinging to his skin. Dean watches him with hooded eyes while he does his work, never saying a word.

"How on earth did you gets so muddy?" He asks, fondly picking leaves out of Dean's hair.

Dean shrugs. "I couldn't exactly use the _front door_ , ya know. I had to sneak my through the bushes 'n everything…"

"Am I supposed to be grateful?"

"Well, you're _supposed_ to say 'oh, Dean, how chivalrous of you'."

Castiel chuckles. "That's not going to happen."

"Yeah. I didn't think so," Dean smirks, flitting his eyes down to Castiel's lips as he leans in to wet a cut above his eyebrow.

"What did your mom say to you?" Castiel asks, if only to distract himself from the inexplicable heat pooling in his groin; he tends to turn into a hormonal mess around Dean for some unknown reason.

Dean clears his throat. "Ah, ya know… the usual. Told me I shouldn't let him get to me, that I should be the bigger man, yada, yada."

"And what did you say to that?"

"I dunno. I just said okay, that I wouldn't hulk out like that again."

Castiel frowns.

"Oh, c'mon, man. _Really_? You don't even know who the Incredible Hulk is?!"

"I'm afraid I don't," He says, a touch defensively. "Anna and I didn't have a television growing up, and I didn't have much time to read or anything."

Dean purses his lips. "Well, we gotta change that, don't we? I'm sure Charlie will be up for a Marvel binge."

"I have no idea what that is, but it sounds fun," He smiles, grateful that Dean didn't push him to say more about his childhood, or lack of pop culture knowledge. He wishes he could've watched TV religiously like other kids, but he had a responsibility when he was younger; looking after Anna was his main priority. Being a 'normal' teenager was never in the cards for him.

"You look tired," Dean says quietly, reaching forward to brush a stray lock of dark hair out of his face. "You've got bags under yours eyes, Cas…"

"Oh, yeah," He touches his face self-consciously. "I… I haven't been sleeping well, that's all."

"What? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it's nothing, Dean. I'm perfectly fine. It's just nightmares."

Dean narrows his eyes. "Nightmares about what? Cas, you're not dreamin' about that night, are you? 'cause you can _talk_ to me if you are, okay -"

"I know I can," He shakes his head lightly. "But it's alright, Dean. Michael's back now… everything's going to go back to normal, just like you said it would."

"Yeah, but -"

" _Dean_ ," He touches his shoulder, smiling. "I'm _okay_."

Dean hesitates for a moment, then the corner of his mouth lifts up in a smirk. "You didn't tell me you kept a diary."

"That's because it's private."

"Why? Have you been writin' stuff about me in there, huh?"

Castiel flushes, thinking back to his entry all those weeks ago: _Dean Winchester - Makes me very happy._

"Of course not."

"Aw, Cas! You're _blushing_ …"

"I am _not_ blushing," He scowls, throwing the wet cloth at Dean's face.

Dean laughs. "You _so_ are! Someone's been writin' _love letters_ for me, haven't they?"

"Do you want me to get Bobby? All I have to do is shout -"

"We both know you wouldn't do that," Dean says smugly, pinning Castiel against the mattress so that he's hovering above him.

Castiel swallows thickly, blinking up at Dean with owlish blue eyes.

"Okay… now you're _definitely_ blushing."

"Screw you," Castiel grumbles, resistance wearing thin as he surrenders to Dean's charms and crushes their mouths together.

Dean is momentarily still for a half a second before kissing back with earnest. His lips move hungrily against Castiel's, nipping gently at the corner of his mouth. Castiel can feel his legs trembling as he rolls them over to gain the upper hand. He can barely keep himself up, his arms are shaking so badly, but the urge to keep going, to keep exploring Dean's mouth until he strikes gold, is far too intense for him to simply stop.

A hand slips into his hair, fingers tangling in the messy tufts as they continue to press against each other, closer and closer… until Castiel can feel his dick stirring in his boxers. He can't supress a moan when Dean slots a leg between his own, allowing him to straddle his thigh. His erection is trapped against Dean's muscle, grinding against the rough material of his jeans. The heat swirling in his stomach is quickly spreading through his groin, running all the way down to his toes. If they keep going like this for much longer, he's fairly certain that they're going to find themselves in a very awkward situation.

When Dean starts fumbling with the cords of his sweatpants, Castiel finally pulls away, red-faced and panting like a runner at the end of the race. He cards a damp piece of hair behind his ear - wet from the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead - and rolls onto his side. Dean follows suit, sitting beside him in a similar state of breathlessness.

"Sorry," He says, cheeks flushing darkly. "I… I couldn't help myself."

Castiel smiles. "It's not your fault, Dean. You weren't the only one not stopping."

"I'm serious, Cas. Michael was wrong. I don't just care about that. I swear to god, you're more to me than just some cheap fling."

Castiel kisses Dean's knuckles gently, _tenderly_. "I trust you."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No," He shakes his head determinedly. "No, I want you to stay. Can't we just… rest awhile?"

Dean licks his lips, then smiles, looking more vulnerable than Cas has ever seen him before; he wonders how many boys or girls have asked him to sleep over before, without any further expectations.

"Sure, Cas. We can do that."

Castiel smiles in relief, then lifts the covers for them both. He crawls onto the left side of the bed, snuggling his face into the pillow. It's a surprise when arms wrap around his waist, pulling him close into a warm embrace. He can feel Dean's breath against his skin, then lips pressing softly against his shoulder.

"What's this?"

Castiel turns over to face Dean. There's something small and translucent in the palm of his hand, about the size of a bottle cap. He recognises the white disk, with its triangle slice missing from the centre, almost immediately.

"Oh, that," He goes to snatch it out of his grasp, but Dean pulls his hands away. "It's nothing, okay?"

"It looks like a tiny pie to me…"

Castiel's stomach flutters. "Really? It actually looks like a pie?"

"Did you make this?" Dean asks bemusedly, smile touching his lips as he cradles the tiny sculpture in his hands.

"Well… yes. Sort of. Kevin helped me," He runs a hand through his hair, huffing at his own ridiculousness. "It's stupid, I know. I just… I wasn't sure if it was customary to bring a gift on a first date, and I didn't want you to think I was being stingy, so I just thought -"

Dean cuts him off with a kiss. He can feel a smile curving against his mouth, Dean's heart beating against his shirt and echoing through his chest.

"You're such a dork," Dean says with a lopsided grin as they pull apart. "It's awesome, Cas. I love it."

"Really?"

Dean's eyes roam over his face for a moment, silently soaking everything in. Castiel can feel his arms trembling as they curl around his waist again.

"Yeah, Cas," He says gently, voice cracking ever so slightly. "I really do."

It doesn't take long for Castiel to drift off, the steady rise and fall of Dean's chest lulling him into a sweet, dreamless slumber. It's the best sleep he's had since Michael was attacked, and it's all because of Dean. Just being able to breath in his scent - woodchips and leather, with the faint whiff of gasoline - is enough to make him feel wanted, happy, _safe_. He's falling fast for this boy, against his own control… And he's loving every second of it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Last chapter before Christmas, guys! (Well, it's technically Christmas in the UK already, but whatever). Hope you enjoy it. Happy Holidays**

* * *

Castiel frowns down at his phone, hopelessly trying to decipher the strange, cryptic message Dean sent him a few moments ago. They exchanged numbers last week, after Dean admitted to missing their 'weird-ass conversations', as he put it, whenever they were apart. Castiel found it quite flattering that Dean valued their time together so much, but didn't let it show; he's worried about scaring Dean off, either with his backstory (which they still haven't discussed) or his 'odd' personality. Dean keeps trying to assure him that he likes him just the way he is - weirdness and all - but it's difficult accepting that, especially since people have been trying to change him his whole life. When you hear it enough times, you start to believe that maybe you're really _not_ good enough, that the real you should be hidden.

He's huffs a sigh, cursing himself for letting his mind wander to dark places yet again. No one likes a sulker, and that's exactly what he'll turn into if he keeps thinking about all the bad things he left behind at home. It's weird to even _think_ of Zachariah's house as a home anymore, not after living at Opal Grove for over a month. He can hardly remember hating this place, or even _why_ he hated it to begin with. Maybe it's because coming here meant leaving Anna with an absolute _bastard_ of an uncle. He keeps clinging onto the knowledge that Zachariah never laid a finger on Anna; surely he wouldn't start now?

"Stop," He mumbles to himself. Anna is perfectly fine. She's _got_ to be.

Pushing all miserable thoughts aside, Castiel clears his mind with a shake of his head and squints down at the phone in his hand, attempting to make sense of Dean's message.

 **Hey Cas -** it says (which thankfully makes sense, even to him), followed by a few letters of gibberish **\- WUU2?**

Castiel huffs again, this time hunching his shoulders the way he does when he's particularly frustrated, and types out a message of his own, hitting reply with a scowl.

 ** _I have no idea what that means, Dean. Please elaborate._**

Another text quickly comes through.

 **Oh right. Sry man. Forgot u were new 2 all this tech stuff n all that.**

Castiel tilts his head in confusion; he can almost understand this message after reading it through a of couple of times. The letter 'u' seems to be a substitution for 'you', as is the number '2' for the _word_ 'to'. He's still not sure why Dean doesn't just type it out in full, or why most of his words are missing valuable letters, but he shrugs it off, deciding to just _roll with it_.

 ** _What does 'WUU2' mean?_**

 **It stnds 4 'what are you up to'. Get it?**

Castiel shakes his head, dumbfounded. Why on earth would Dean choose to text like this?

 ** _I find this method of communication pretty lazy, if I'm being honest. Can't you just talk like a normal person?_**

He can almost _picture_ Dean reading his message, laughing at his stupidity. He must think he's such an amateur at all this _socializing_ malarkey. Not that he'd be wrong.

 **Sure Cas. I can speak like a proper English gentleman if you want me to.**

Castiel smiles down at his phone.

 ** _Your punctuation still needs some work, but that's much better._**

 **I aim 2 plz.**

 **Oh wait. I mean I AIM TO PLEASE. Sorry, sorry…**

Castiel laughs and goes to type out a reply, but his door opens with a bang before he gets the chance. Charlie and Gabe come barrelling into his room, mid-conversation, and jump onto the edge of his bed, sending his phone flying out of his hands with a bounce.

"Thanks for that, guys," He groans, rolling off the bed to retrieve his phone from under the drawers it skidded beneath.

Charlie doesn't seem to notice the sarcasm laced into his words, or even the fact that he spoke in _general_. She simply jumps off the bed after him and grabs his arms, leaning in close with wide eyes that seems to stare into his soul.

"We need to talk."

"Um… about _what_ exactly?"

"About Kevin," Gabe says with a raised eyebrow, as if he should already _know_ what they're going on about. "A super fabulous _surprise party_ is in order, don't you think?"

Castiel frowns, suddenly feeling very lost. "Uh… Is it his… _birthday_ , or something?"

"Wha - Oh, I should've known you'd forget!" Gabe rolls his eyes, then points a bright pink lollipop at him accusingly. " _Think_ , kiddo. _Think hard._ "

Castiel crinkles his brow, thinking back to his recent conversations with Kevin. He doesn't feel like he's missed anything important; last week, he was helping him collect stones in the garden, and then he was studying metaphysics with him yesterday (don't ask why, because he's not quite sure himself). Kevin isn't exactly 'chatty' as it is, so he can hardly imagine forgetting anything _worth_ remembering.

"I don't… I'm not sure what it is I'm supposed to remember."

"Well, yeah," Charlie mirrors Gabe's eyebrow raise. "That's kinda the whole point of _forgetting_ something."

Castiel glowers at them both. "Well, can't you just tell me, because I don't -" And then his eyes land on the calendar behind Gabe's head, and it suddenly hits him.

He remembers his first couple of weeks at Opal Grove, and how he spent most of his spare time with Kevin. They didn't talk much, but Castiel appreciated his quiet kindness, and the way he made him feel involved. Castiel is _not_ an artist by any means, but helping Kevin with his craft work has been surprisingly fun - even _therapeutic._ His second week here, Kevin was working on some project that Lucifer knocked off the kitchen table. He remembers that day with such clarity now, the reason why Kevin was making all those separate parts for a bigger sculpture… A sculpture he was planning on unveiling just before his mom picked him up in a month's time.

"He's leaving," Castiel says dumbly, still staring at the calendar. "Kevin's going home."

The pinched frustration in Gabe's expression quickly fades, replaced by something akin to sympathy. He slides off the bed and comes to stand beside him and Charlie, placing a hand on Castiel's shoulder with a shrug.

"Ding, ding. Someone get this guy a prize," He says, but there's no mirth in his words; he almost seems tired, _pained_.

Charlie squeezes Castiel's arm. "Don't worry, dude. You've got a lot on your mind at the moment."

"That's no excuse," He spits, completely appalled with himself. "I should've remembered. What kind of friend would just _forget_ something like that?"

"Hey, c'mon… Don't beat yourself up, kiddo."

Charlie nods her head, smiling sadly. "Yep. And we can still throw him an awesome leavers party, can't we? Whaddya say?"

His phone suddenly chimes again, signalling another text message. Castiel glances down at it morosely; it's from Dean.

 **I'm really sorry, Cas. Look! I used commas and everything! Forgive me?**

Despite the situation, Castiel can't help but smile. He tucks his phone away without answering, an instant pang of guilt unfurling in his chest. He can't blame Dean - he _won't_ blame Dean - but there's no denying how distracted he's been by their relationship lately. His thoughts are constantly consumed by green eyes and freckles, large hands cupping his face and curling around his waist, making him feel warm and safe and _cared about_. There's no wonder he's been such an awful friend to everyone here at Opal Grove recently.

"I'm sorry," He says in a whisper, eyes dropped to the floor. "I've been ignoring you guys, haven't I?"

Charlie shrugs. "You're in love, Cas! We don't blame you."

"I am _not_ in love with Dean," He grumbles half-heartedly, pointedly ignoring her gaze; Charlie isn't exactly wrong. He knows that if he allows himself to, he _will_ fall for Dean. It's inevitable, really - has been since the day they first met.

"You keep telling yourself that, kiddo," Gabe says, eyes twinkling again. "Now, you reply to your boyfriend, and then meet us in the hall, okay?"

Before Castiel can protest, they're both gone, leaving him alone in the corner of his room. He shouldn't feel bad about texting his own boyfriend, but he still can't stamp down the incessant guilt and shame rising in his throat like bile. _How could he forget?_

"Well," He sighs to himself, fishing his phone out of his pocket frustratedly. "You officially have _no_ self-control, Castiel. I hope you're proud of yourself."

* * *

Mary's office never changes - from the cream coloured walls, to the mahogany desk with its neat stacks of paper and picture frames facing the window behind, to the two armchairs sitting approximately five inches apart in the centre of the room. He imagines that if someone were to be sitting in the chair to his right, he could reach across and touch them, hold their hand. That's probably the whole idea; you're supposed to have people with you for these sorts of things, to comfort you and make you feel calmer.

But Castiel doesn't feel calmer.

He's alone. There's no one sitting beside him, offering a helping hand. The empty chair feels like an insult, goading him with its presence - a constant remind that, unlike so many residents here at Opal Grove, Castiel doesn't have anyone waiting for him back home. He has Anna, but she's just a child. He doesn't have a mom or a dad, or any kind of parental figure. He just has his uncle, with his cold, grey eyes and balding head. When he finally leaves this place in two months' time, he'll be returning to a life of constant fear and misery, suffocated by his job - his _duty_ \- to protect his sister from a man of grotesque ideology and relentless cruelty. The only support system he's ever know rests in this place - with Dean and all of his friends - and soon, it's going to be taken away from him. He can taste the fear of that dreaded day, like copper on his tongue.

"Castiel," Mary's soothing voice cuts through his anxiety, grounding him again. "What are you thinking about, Castiel?"

He blinks a few times, tries to focus on her kind blue eyes. His hands are shaking, he realizes, bundled together in his lap as he studies the blonde waves framing Mary's pretty face. He tries to look for bits of Dean in her expression, but her skin is too soft, too clear, and her hair is a shade too light. Dean is rough and warm-looking, with speckles of pale brown dotting his face like stars, and sandy brown hair ruffled with soft spikes on top of his head. When he smiles, the whole world seems to blur at the edges, and the green twinkle in his eyes is like a beacon of light slicing through the darkness, guiding him home.

"It's nothing," He says with a staggered breath, clutching at the armrests to steady himself. "I was just… I-I was thinking about Kevin, that's all."

The lines in Mary's forehead even out, and she slides off the edge of her desk with the kind of easy grace that only a mother could achieve. Everything about her reminds Castiel of Snow White, or some other kind of Disney Princess who's never at fault.

"You and Kevin are close," She says, not a question. "I've noticed that."

Castiel shrugs. "He's one of the first people I met here, after Jo. We're good friends."

"You're going to miss him then."

"Well, yeah. Obviously."

"But you're also happy for him, knowing he gets to go home?"

Castiel goes to reply, then freezes. He hasn't even thought about the positives yet, of how Kevin finally gets to see his mom again, and be free. All this time, he's selfishly been worrying about himself, and how _he'll_ feel more alone without him around. Kevin is okay - he's not like them anymore; he's happy and healthy and _sane_.

"I… I guess," He swallows thickly. "I hadn't really thought about that much."

Mary nods, as if that was the answer she was expecting. "He's going home, Castiel. That's not the same as leaving you."

"We're throwing him a party," He says quickly, avoiding the implication of Mary's words; he really doesn't want to delve into his major trust issues at the moment.

Mary straightens up, smiling brightly. "That's great!"

"It was Charlie and Gabe's idea, but they want me to help out."

"Well, I think it's a wonderful idea. Kevin will definitely appreciate the effort," Mary says with an approving nod of her head. "Am I invited?"

The mischievous glint in her eyes reminds him of Dean, and he can finally breath again.

"Uh… yeah. Yeah, I guess. I mean, we haven't discussed that yet, but it's an open party, so… yes. I'm sure you're welcome."

Mary spots the journal stuffed between his legs, her face lighting up with a cross between astonished relief and, if he's not mistaken, _pride_. She gives him a warm smile that makes him feel instantly lighter, as if he's suddenly floating.

"You brought it," She says softly. "I'm glad. I was worried you'd given up on it."

Castiel preens under the gentle praise, inexplicably happy about making Mary _glad_.

"May I have a quick look?"

"Sure," He shrugs, reaching forward to place the journal in her hands.

Mary brushes her hand over the cover, hesitating slightly. "Castiel… you know you don't _have_ to share this with me? If there's personal information in here, you can keep it to yourself."

"I don't have anything to hide," He clenches his jaw. "Besides. You said this was like an experiment or something…"

"Reflecting on your time here can be a great way of making sense of things, of seeing things more clearly."

"Exactly," Castiel shrugs again. "You can help me make sense of things, can't you?"

A smile flits over Mary's face, like wind ghosting her lips.

"That's very true," She says, amused. "I'm glad you're opening up more, Castiel. It's refreshing to see."

He smiles tightly, suddenly feeling awkward.

"I don't wanna _peek inside your thoughts_ ," Mary says with an air of flippancy. "If you like, I could lend you a separate diary for that sort of thing. We could keep this one strictly between us."

Castiel rolls his eyes. "Like I said: I don't have anything to hide."

"Everyone has secrets, Castiel," Mary says as her hand brushes over the torn edges of an absent page, brows lifting as if to emphasise her point.

"Oh, that's… that's nothing. It was just a drawing. But I can't draw, so… I-It didn't really look like anything," Castiel splutters, cheeks reddening. He was so sure - so _confident_ \- last night; he was going to leave his entry about Dean in the journal for Mary to find. The secret would finally be out, and he and Dean wouldn't have to tiptoe around anymore. But at the last moment, as he was leaving his room for their session, he panicked. The slight chance that Mary would freak out and ban his relationship with Dean was too much; he couldn't risk it. So he ripped out the page, like the spineless idiot he is, and stuffed it deep into one of his drawers.

Mary chuckles. "Budding artist, huh?"

"It's, uh… it's not for me."

"Art is for everyone," She shrugs, smiling slightly. "It's one of the easiest things in the world, if you know what you want to create."

Castiel doesn't believe that's true; you need patience and skill and _experience_ in order to create something beautiful. But he decides not to argue. This session is already stretching out painfully, and all he really wants to do is collapse on his bed for a few hours.

"Hang on," Mary gives him a nod, then disappears around her desk to find something. When she reappears, she's holding another diary - much like the one she already gave him, but bound in dark green leather with a golden thread dangling from the centre page. She comes to stand in front of him, eyes bright, and hands him the book. "Take this. Consider it a gift; something for you to have for yourself, something to keep all your secrets in."

Despite her gentle smile, Castiel can feel impatient fury bubbling up in his chest, like lava rising to the surface. "I don't _have_ any goddamn secrets, okay?!"

"Then use it as a sketchbook," Mary shrugs, not missing a beat. "Something to practise with."

"But -"

"I don't want you to _ever_ feel like you should hide your feelings away," She says, pointedly casting her eyes down to the torn-out page in the journal. "The last thing I want to do is invade your privacy, Castiel. I'm _so sorry_ if that's how I've made it seem. But having a place to express your thoughts - whether you choose to share them with someone or not - is _so_ important. It can ease that feeling of… of _claustrophobia_."

Castiel swallows hard. He wants to argue, to tell her that it doesn't _matter_ if she reads his journal or not, because nothing he writes about would interest her anyway. But maybe she's right; maybe he's just kidding himself. He thinks about the freedom of being able to write down his every thought and feeling - getting them out in the open without really telling anyone else, just a version of himself who might one day reflect on these little snippets of his life when times get tough, to _ground_ himself when the present seems like nothing more than a slow-moving walkway to the inevitable. If he could somehow _capture_ these moments in his journal - press them between the pages like an old flower - he'll never have to lose them. He'll never have to be apart from his friends… from Dean.

"Fine," He says tightly, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Mary smiles, then taps the cover of his old journal with the kind of wicked look a teacher has before dishing out homework. "I wanna hear all about Kevin's party."

"But, won't you be there anyway?"

"I want to read it from _your_ perspective, Castiel. I want to know what you liked and disliked about it, if the food was good, who you hung around with…"

"This is stupid."

"You want me to help you make sense of things," She says, recalling back to their earlier conversation. "Well, this is how we start."

Castiel's not quite sure how describing the frosting on Gabe's cake is going to help him sort out his problems, but who is he to argue with a counsellor? Besides, he really just wants to get out of this stuffy room now.

"Okay," He takes the two journals in his hands, groaning internally at how ridiculous this whole thing is, and how easily he's managed to fall into it.

Mary looks like she's about to open her mouth again, so Castiel quickly says his goodbyes and scuttles out of the room, suddenly eager to escape the confines of this incredibly awkward conversation. He's not sure what to think of these sessions; he likes Mary as a person, and her advice is usually fairly helpful, but having someone dig so far into his mind leaves him feeling a little bit exposed. _Vulnerable_. Giving her permission to do that requires a lot of trust - trust he's not sure he's willing to give just yet.

He's too busy staring at the journals in his hands that he doesn't notice the other body coming around the corner - not before it's too late. He screeches to a halt, just as a pair of hands come flying to his arms, steading him before he can trip over his own feet.

"Woah," A familiar voice chuckles lightly. "You've got a habit of runnin' into people, don'tcha, Cas?"

The tension instantly rolls off his shoulders as he looks up into those familiar green eyes. "Dean. What are doing here?"

"Waitin' for my mom. She's gettin' off in a few minutes."

Castiel suddenly notices the other boy standing beside Dean. He's short and skinny, with a mop of brown hair falling across his hazel eyes. He's watching him with a strange sense of awe, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly open. He's not quite sure what gives it away - the resemblance between them isn't startling - but he immediately knows that this is Sam, Dean's younger brother.

"Hello," He says awkwardly.

Sam seems to snap back into reality, eyes blinking rapidly as he waves a finger in his face with excitement. "Oh my god! You're _Cas_. Like, _the_ Cas?

"I… I don't - Um… Yes? Maybe… I suppose I am," He casts a desperate glance at Dean, who is busy hiding his face in his hands.

"Man! I can't believe it's you," Sam carries on with an face-splitting grin. "Dean talks about you _all the time_. Seriously, he won't shut up! All I hear is 'Cas this' and 'Cas that'. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm glad my brother's finally found someone he _actually_ likes, but it does get on your nerves after a while, ya know?"

Castiel shrugs helplessly. "I… I-I didn't know he'd told anyone about me."

"Oh, yeah. He promised me not to tell," Sam rolls his eyes, like he doesn't understand the point in keeping it a secret. "Our parents don't know yet."

"Yet?"

"That's enough, Sammy!" Dean shoves his brother behind him hastily, shaking his head in apology. "Ignore him, Cas. He's just bein' an idiot. I ain't gonna tell anyone about us, I swear."

"I -"

"He keeps whining about how 'he wishes you could be together properly' and all that," Sam says in a sickly, love-dovey kind of voice. "Seriously, Cas. I've never seen him like this before! It's kinda disgusting."

Dean shoots his brother a glare, cheeks burning. "Shut the hell up, will ya? Quit tellin' the poor guy lies."

"But I'm not -"

"What's going on?" Castiel cuts in gently, flitting his gaze between the two boys anxiously.

"It's nothin', I promise," Dean waves him off. "Just my _bitch_ of a brother thinkin' he's frickin' _hilarious_."

Sam smiles smugly up at Dean, then returns his attention to Castiel. "So, are you and Dean actually _boyfriends_ now, 'cause I'm sick of him pining all the time."

"Sonofa - You know what? You better scram, or I'll go get Gabe," Dean says in a low, threatening tone of voice; Castiel's not quite sure what's so scary about Gabe, but the look of pure terror on Sam's face is almost laughable.

"You wouldn't!"

"Try me."

Sam hesitates for a moment, then rolls his eyes and saunters off to the opposite side of the corridor. " _Fine_. I'll be over here once you guys have stopped makin' _goo-goo eyes_ at each other, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," Dean grumbles, gaze shifting from Sam to Castiel with hardened curiosity. He seems to be studying him closely, brow knitted together as he sweeps a lock of dark hair out of his face. "You okay, Cas? You look a little, I dunno… _shaken_."

Castiel shakes his head, sighing as he closes his hand around Dean's. "I'm fine, it's just… Well, you know. Kevin's leaving this week."

"Holy crap," Dean scrubs a hand over his face. "'Course he is."

 _At least he's not the_ only _one who forgot._

"Gabe and Charlie are throwing him a party, and I… I-I don't know if I can do it."

Dean squeezes his hand. "Sure you can, Cas."

"Would you… I mean, do you want to come? If you don't have plans or anything, I'd really like you to be there."

"Hell yeah," Dean grins, but his eyes are soft and gentle - _comforting_. "Of course, baby."

Somewhere in the background, Sam gags. "Ugh… Gross, Dean! You know he calls his car that too, right?"

"I swear to god, I will go get Gabe!"

Sam shuts up.

Castiel can't help but smile at the two brothers playfully bickering with each other, not knowing how good they've actually got it. He's suddenly filled with a fierce urge to see his sister - to stroke his hand through her silky, red hair, to hold her close and keep her safe. Maybe he could ask Bobby about having her visit… or maybe he could visit her?

"You're shakin'," Dean murmurs, running his hands up and down Castiel's arms. "D'you want me to stop by tonight?"

Castiel wants to say no, that he'll be fine; he already feels melodramatic for asking Dean to come to the party in case it's too much for him. He's never had someone to lean on for support before, and it's still unnerving allowing Dean to look after him. It makes him feel weak. But at the same time, there's something relieving about not having to take control all the time, about acting his age and easing off the pressure of responsibility for once. He thinks back to Dean in his bed the other night, arms wrapped around his waist and breath warm on his neck. He hasn't slept so well in years, and it's all down to him.

"I… Yes. Yes, I'd like that," He finally manages to say, stomach fluttering at the blinding smile on Dean's face.

"Awesome," Dean licks his lips, glancing over his shoulder before leaning down to press a kiss against his cheek. It's quick and feather light, but it's enough to rouse Sam's attention.

"Aw, c'mon, Dean!"

"Grow up, Sammy. S'just a kiss," Dean flips him the bird, then waggles his eyebrows. "I mean, we _could_ be doin' a lot worse…"

Castiel almost chokes on his own spit as Sam turns a dark shade of red, then squeezes Dean's hand one last time before letting go. "Well, I better get going… I just want to lie down for a bit. I didn't sleep much last night, so -"

"You havin' nightmares still?"

"I'm fine, Dean."

"Yeah, but -"

" _Trust me_. If things get bad again, you'll be the first to know."

Dean calms a little. "Shouldn't you be tellin' my _mom_ that sort of stuff?"

"Yes, well… I'd rather talk to you. No offence to your mother. She's great, but…" He gestures to the journals in his hands. "Her tactics are a little extreme."

"Lemme guess: you needed extra paper for all of my adoring love letters, right?"

Castiel rolls his eyes, smiling despite himself. "Your modesty is charming."

"Yeah. I get that a lot," Dean winks. "Alrighty then… Go get some sleep. Don't want you turnin' all _zombie_ on me."

"Okay. I'll see you later on?"

"Sure," Dean makes sure to catch Sam's eye before pulling him in for a kiss, moaning obscenely as his brother pretends to choke on his finger.

"Ugh! _Gross_ , Dean!"

Castiel pulls away gently, giving Sam a small, contrite smile. "You're such an ass, you know that?"

"S'all part of the charm, _baby_."

Sam scowls. "Can we please just _go_ now! Before I barf…"

"Yeah, yeah. Keep your lovely locks on, Sammy," Dean gives him one last, lingering kiss before finally turning to leave. "Seya later, Cas!"

"Goodbye, Dean. It was nice to meet you, Sam."

"Yeah, you too!"

Castiel watches them disappear around the corner, pointedly ignoring the tightening in his chest. He misses Anna and Jo and Dean - even though he _just_ saw him _five seconds ago_. That's the only flaw to having people you love and care about; being alone suddenly feels a thousand times worse.

* * *

It's later on, when Castiel is heading to the kitchen for something to eat, that he passes Lucifer's room - door wide open. The older boy is sitting at his desk, staring out into the corridor as if waiting for someone. His stony blue eyes regard Castiel with a cross between boredom, and mild curiosity. There's something about their gaze that makes him feel cold all over.

"Tell your friend I'm sorry for knocking his sculptures onto the floor," Lucifer says slowly, _casually_. "I was just jealous of him leaving this godforsaken place."

Castiel blinks dumbly, not sure what to say. Behind Lucifer, on his desk, are loads of tools scattered across the surface. He can see something glinting in the dark shadows at the back of the room, but before he can get a closer look, Lucifer leans to the side and blocks his view.

"Have a good evening, Castiel," He smiles unnervingly, raising his smiley face mug - slightly chipped on the rim - in a silent goodbye.

A chill slivers down his spine, like icy fingertips dancing across his skin. He remembers Dean's warning about not trusting this guy, and now he can sort of understand why; there's definitely something not quite right about him. The cold, hard dread that floods his chest when those eyes rake over him is not dissimilar to having an asthma attack.

"Well," He mumbles to himself once he's far away from Lucifer's room. "That was odd…"


	9. Chapter 9

**Another chapter! This one is seriously fluffy, so I hope you enjoy... Please leave a review if you can. Your feedback really boosts my confidence and encourages me to write more. Thanks, guys**

* * *

Castiel wakes up enveloped in warmth, the weight of arms wrapped around his body keeping him fixed firmly in place. He can feel the fluttering of breath against the nape of his neck, and the rhythmic sighs of someone deep in slumber tickling his hair. He dares a glance over his shoulder, knowing too well who's lying behind him, but still wanting to catch a glimpse of Dean sleeping soundly. An instant glow unfurls in the pit of stomach at the sight. He desperately wants to reach forward and card his fingers through the disarray of light brown spikes flattened against Dean's hair, but the other boy's face scrunches up as the mattress shifts beneath them. When he blinks his eyes open, small smile curving his lips, Castiel has to take a sharp intake of breath to steady himself; sometimes he forgets how gorgeous Dean really is.

"Mornin', sunshine," Dean mumbles groggily, untangling his arms from around Castiel before sitting up with a groan.

Castiel smiles as he stretches out like a cat. "Good morning. I didn't hear you come in last night?"

"I told you I'd stop by, didn't I?" Dean returns a lazy smile and kisses his bare shoulder. "You were asleep when I got here. Figured you'd want me to stick around."

"Well, I'm glad you did."

"Oh, really?"

"Mhm," Castiel supresses a shiver as Dean bends down to kiss his collarbone next. "I always sleep better when you're here."

"No nightmares?"

Castiel nods, smiling dazedly as Dean looks up at him again. "No nightmares."

"Ya know, I tend to have that effect on people," Dean shrugs nonchalantly. "My dashing good looks seem to just, I dunno… banish out the negative energy. I'm like a wizard, really. A very attractive, charming wizard."

Castiel laughs. "It's nice to see you're not a bragger."

"Me? Oh, no… I'm very modest."

"Definitely," Castiel shakes his head fondly, sighing as Dean goes back to kissing him all over; he could really get used to this way of waking up.

"I think my mom's suspicious of us," Dean suddenly says, popping his head up with a frown.

Castiel sits up straight. "What? Why? What did she say?"

"Hey, hey, hey… Calm down, will ya? I didn't say she knows… she's just catchin' on is all."

"Yes, but if she finds out -"

"What's she gonna do? Stop us from seein' each other? C'mon, Cas," Dean rolls his eyes, but reaches out a hand to brush his knuckles against Castiel's arm. "My mom's not like that."

"I know, but… What if we're breaking some kind of law? I mean, your mom is my counsellor. Surely there's something unethical about that?"

Dean shrugs. "I dunno, man. It seems okay to me."

"Well, you would say that."

"Look, all I'm sayin' is… maybe we should tell her. What's the worst that can happen?"

Castiel snatches his arm away. "I could lose you, for a start!"

The challenging glint in Dean's eyes quickly dissolves into something sympathetic. He reaches for Castiel's arm again, shoulders sagging as he feels it trembling beneath his fingers. Without a word, he pulls him in for a hug. Castiel doesn't even try to resist, just allows himself to be cushioned against Dean's chest, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck.

"You know I'm not gonna let that happen," Dean sighs, smiling crookedly when Castiel meets his gaze. "You're kinda stuck with me."

Castiel deflates. "I apologise… I-I get panicky and paranoid, and I -"

"Hey," Dean tilts his chin up, eyes stern, but also kind. "You don't have to explain yourself, ya hear me? I get it, Cas."

"I bet you regret ever getting into this," He chuckles, only half joking.

Dean shakes his head. "Never. Cas, you - I don't think you understand how much I… I-I mean, I really -"

A knocking on the door cuts him off.

"Castiel?" A gruff voice calls on the other end - Bobby. "You awake, boy? We've gotta talk."

Dean winces. "Crap. It's Bobby."

"You need to hide!"

"Where?!"

"I don't know! Um… Oh, quick! Get under the bed!"

Dean rolls his eyes theatrically. "You never seen Taken, Cas? That shit never works!"

"Castiel? I'm comin' in…"

"Damn it," Castiel hisses, eyes darting around the room. "Get out the window."

"What?!"

"You heard me!"

When the doorknob starts to turn, Dean swiftly obliges, scrambling to his feet and squeezing out the window just as the door opens. There's a faint thud as he hits the ground, followed by a curse, but Bobby enters the room before Castiel gets the chance to check he hasn't fallen onto the pavement and broken his neck.

"Who you talkin' to, boy?"

Castiel quickly schools his features. "Um… myself?"

"Right," Bobby eyes him suspiciously, pointedly flitting his gaze to the crinkled AC/DC shirt lying on the floor. "Sure you are."

Castiel flushes darkly and clears his throat. "What did you, uh… What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Your uncle called," Bobby nudges Dean's shirt with the toe of his boot, but thankfully leaves it at that; Castiel can't imagine anything more embarrassing than having 'the talk' with the warden, of all people. "He wants to come visit you."

An instant chill sweeps through his body. "What? Why? I don't want him to visit."

"You wanna think about that for a sec?"

"I just want to see my sister," He says firmly, ignoring the blatant sarcasm in Bobby's words.

Bobby scratches his chin. "Your sister's a minor, I'm guessin', which means she can't come visit without adult supervision."

"She's twelve! She's not a baby -"

"Rule are rules, m'afraid. If you want ya sister to come visit, you're gonna need your uncle to come, too."

Castiel swallows thickly, suddenly panicking. "But… But I don't want to see him, Bobby. I don't want… He can't be here."

Against his own control, his eyes wander to the shirt on the floor; if Zachariah were to find out that he's been seeing a boy during his time here, things would only get worse. He's been kicked, spat on, belted, and beaten bloody, all because his uncle was suspicious. If he were to find out the truth - if he finally had a real reason to be angry with him - then god knows how he'd react. As soon as Castiel left here, he'd be subjected to far worse treatment. Away from the safety of Opal Grove, he's completely helpless… alone.

Bobby's eyes follow his gaze, and his jaw clenches. "Ya know, Castiel… you're safe here."

"I do know," He says quietly, almost whispering. "But I won't be here forever."

"If somethin's goin' on at home -"

"It doesn't matter."

"Goddamnit, of course it does, ya damn idjit!" Bobby snaps. "I ain't sendin' you packin' back to some abusive dimwit - no matter how much you tell me it don't matter."

Castiel stiffens. "I'm stronger than people think I am."

"It ain't about bein' strong, boy. No kid should have to go through that. Nobody should have to go through that."

"Go through what?" He licks his lips anxiously. "I'm not going through anything."

Bobby scowls. "Well, I know you're lyin' to me, but okay."

"I'm not -"

"If you don't wanna talk about it today, that's fine by me. But we will talk about, ya hear me? I ain't puttin' you in harm's way."

Castiel is tempted to argue further, but he knows that this isn't an argument he can win, so he lets the matter drop. It's still strange, having people worry about him like this. It's surreal to think that Bobby even cares about what happens to him afterwards; once he's left Opal Grove, his hands are wiped clean of him - he's not his responsibility anymore. Why would he give a damn what Zachariah does or doesn't do to him?

"Could you just… Could you call back?" He asks, conscious of the crack in his voice. "If my uncle wants to visit, I want Anna here, too. I won't see him without her."

Bobby strains a smile and flicks the bill of his cap up. "Will do. You comin' down for some breakfast?"

"Um… in a bit, maybe."

"Well, okay then," Bobby looks around the room one last time (probably searching for Dean) before disappearing out the door.

As soon as his footsteps have retreated down the hallway, Castiel rushes to the window and looks down. Dean is lying awkwardly in a bush, cradling his bleeding elbow. There are twigs in his hair, and mud on his bare chest, but he doesn't seem to be in too much pain. His green eyes are still twinkling when he looks up at him.

"Dean! Are you okay?"

"Yeah," He struggles to sit up, grimacing slightly. "I'm just swell."

"Here… come on," Castiel bends down to grab Dean's forearm, lifting him halfway until he's leaning on the window sill. "You're bleeding."

"Ah, it's just a scratch. I'll live."

Castiel fetches some tissue from the bathroom anyway, pressing a wad of it against the oozing wound. Dean tries to shrug it off, but he can see the discomfort in his expression.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made you go out the window."

Dean chuckles. "Don't worry about it, Cas."

"How much of that did you hear?" He asks cautiously, not really wanting to know the answer; he doesn't want Dean knowing how bad things are at home. He doesn't want his pity, or his endless questions, or his vow to keep him safe. He doesn't want empty promises. He just wants things to carry on as normal, like they are now.

Dean shrugs. "Only bits and pieces… I heard somethin' about your uncle… he wants to visit?"

Castiel sighs inwardly with relief. "Yes. He wants to visit, but I'm not sure about my sister. She can't come without him apparently. She needs 'adult supervision'."

"Makes sense, I guess."

"But I don't understand why he wants to visit. He hates me!"

Dean shakes his head resolutely. "Nope. Not possible."

"You don't know my uncle."

"Well, he wants to see you. That's good, right?"

Castiel swallows down the sour taste in his mouth, hoping his face isn't as green at it feels. He knows that it's not Dean's fault, that he hasn't been told the full story, but there something unsettling about his boyfriend defending the man who once left him tied up in a shed for writing with the 'devil's hand'. Still, if he wants to keep up this charade and pretend that his childhood was nice and normal, he can't exactly go ranting about his uncle for no reason.

"Maybe you're right," He says stiffly. "I should probably give him a chance."

Dean smiles approvingly, but then his face drops. "Oh, crap… I've got tutoring at nine. I've gotta go, Cas."

"Oh, that's okay," Castiel shakes the wrinkles out of his shirt and hands it over. "See you tonight?"

Dean throws the shirt over his head in one swift movement, frowning deeply when his head reappears through the collar. "Sorry, baby… My dad keeps askin' me where I'm goin' at night. We better lay low for a few days."

Something in his stomach drops - like a heavy stone through water - but he tries to keep his face neutral. "No, that's… I understand."

"You sure you'll be okay?"

"I'll be fine, Dean." He rolls his eyes.

"Well… text me, alright? We can talk on the phone."

A hesitant smiles tugs at his lips; it was silly of him to ever get paranoid, thinking that maybe Dean was making things up to avoid him. He's not sure how long it's going to take until the novelty of someone as amazing as Dean actually liking him finally wears off.

"Okay."

Dean runs a hand through his hair, then reaches up to kiss him goodbye. He should probably be disgusted by the morning breath, but he's too lost in the relief that Dean isn't growing bored of him just yet. In a moment of bravery, he grabs the back of Dean's head and deepens the kiss, surprising a muffled yelp out of him. When Dean reciprocates earnestly, yanking him forward by the small of his back, Castiel growls deep in the back of his throat. It's only when Dean begins stumbling backwards that they both break apart, red-faced and breathless.

"Woah," Dean sucks in a breath, chuckling deliriously. "What was that?"

Castiel smiles sheepishly. "A goodbye?"

"Well, damn… You wanna say goodbye like that more often?"

"Only if you behave yourself."

Dean laughs and waggles his eyebrows. "Ooh, kinky."

"Shut up."

"Hey, if you want me to be a good boy, all you've gotta do is ask," Dean winks. "I could start callin' you sir, if you want."

Castiel blushes. "That's not… Stop making everything I say sound dirty!"

"But it's just so easy."

"Go away," He scowls, dipping his head to press a grumpy kiss against Dean's nose.

Dean leans into it like a cat, smiling smugly. "Ya know, I wish I could stay here. I'm not tryin' to run away or anything…"

"I know," Castiel says, still a little surprised himself. "I trust you."

Dean's smile is contagious. "Alright then. I'll see you when I see you, I guess?"

"Okay," He watches Dean carefully maneuver his way out of the bushes, waiting until he's safe on the other side before calling out to him. "Thank you, by the way."

"What for?"

Castiel shrugs. "For being here."

"No need to thank me, Cas," Dean says, grinning brightly. "I'm always gonna be here."

And goddammit, he actually believes him…

* * *

Later, in the afternoon, Castiel finds himself sitting on his bed, with Charlie and Gabe sprawled out on the floor, desperately trying to keep the plans for Kevin's leavers party somewhere in the realm of possibility. But it's difficult when you're working with a girl who's brain only functions in terms of fiction, and a boy who hardly ever takes a situation seriously. So, of course, he ends up being the voice of reason, which basically involves dispelling any ludicrous ideas, and more or less sucking the fun out of everything.

"Okay," Charlie throws her hands in the air dramatically. "So then a massive helicopter can come down and rain confetti from the sky!"

Gabe hums around a strawberry flavoured lollipop. "Don't forget the strippers."

"Oh, I'm down for strippers."

"Guys," Castiel groans, tossing his pen and paper onto the bed. "Can we please be a little more realistic here? Kevin's leaving in three days… We don't exactly have enough time to mess around with pointlessly extravagant ideas."

Gabe whistles. "Big word, Cassy."

"It's only four syllables," Castiel rolls his eyes. "But that's beside the point. We should've had everything planned days ago!"

Charlie tucks a strand of red hair behind her ear and shrugs. "Well, we've got the cake sorted out, at least."

"Gabe saying he's going to make the cake is not the same as sorting it out!"

"Hey!" Gabe slaps a hand over his heart. "I resent that."

"Well, you're not exactly the most reliable person, let's be honest."

Gabe wrinkles his nose. "How so?"

"Compulsive liar, remember?"

"How d'you know that Jo isn't the compulsive liar, and that she didn't just made that whole thing up?"

Castiel rolls his eyes. "Just yesterday, you tried to convince me that Bobby was doing cartwheels down the corridor."

"Well… he was!"

"I'd pay to see that," Charlie snorts. "Like, seriously. I have money. Take it."

"No one's doing cartwheels!" Castiel all but roars. "Just… Just stop being… yourselves, for just five minutes. Please. For me?"

Gabe pops his lollipop back into his mouth, leaning against the foot of the bed with a shrug. "To be fair, strippers are highly obtainable. You just gotta know the right guy."

"For everyone's sakes, I really hope you don't," Castiel massages his temples, trying to squeeze the stress out of his mind. "We're not hiring strippers, Gabe. Especially with Meg wandering around the place. There'll be havoc."

Charlie rubs her hands together. "Sexy stripper orgies? I am so in favour of that!"

"What? No -"

"Thank you, red!" Gabe leans over to high-five her. "Finally, someone with a little taste."

Castiel balks. "How are strippers tasteful?"

"Well, they sure are tasty. Eh, eh? Can I get a whoop-whoop?"

Charlie thrusts her fist in the air. "Whoop-whoop!"

"Dear lord… Just stop!"

"Stop what?"

The three of them freeze and simultaneously turn towards the open door, where Kevin is standing with a plate of delicious-smelling something. The steam from the dish wafts towards Castiel, carrying with it a rich, buttery scent that makes his mouth instantly water. The growling in his stomach interrupts the awkward silence, turning all heads in his direction. He smiles apologetically, rubbing his stomach, and shrugs.

"I didn't eat this morning."

"That's why Bobby told me to bring you this," Kevin nudges the door closed and comes to sit beside them, silently handing the plate over to Castiel. "He said you didn't come down for breakfast earlier on."

Castiel almost moans at the sight - a stack of five pancakes, drizzled in golden syrup, with a square of butter slowly melting on the top.

"What? No fair," Gabe reaches up to nab a pancake, smearing syrup across the edge of the quilt in the process.

"Ooh, I want one, too!" Charlie takes a second, albeit more politely, and shoves half of it in in one go, grinning around the syrupy mouthful. "Mhm. Thash good!"

Castiel scowls. "Gee… thanks, guys."

"You're more than welcome, Cassy! I can take some more if you'd like -"

"Go away," He slaps Gabe's hand with a stern look, lifting the remaining pancakes high above his head out of reach.

Kevin gingerly gathers a glob of syrup from Charlie's pancake onto his finger, cleaning it off with a small smile. "So, what did you want them to stop?"

"Pardon?"

"Before, when I came in… you were telling them to stop."

Castiel shoots a glare at Charlie and Gabe. "Oh, um… They were pestering me. They wanted to know why Bobby came to see me this morning."

"Bobby came to see you?"

Gabe elbows Charlie in the ribs. "Yes, you idiot. Cassy told us this, remember?"

"Oh, right," She blushes, shovelling the rest of her pancake into her mouth before she can say anything else stupid.

Kevin frowns suspiciously, but luckily doesn't push it any further.

"So, um… Why did the warden come to see you?" Gabe asks, trying to keep his tone casual; as far as Kevin is concerned, this isn't news to him.

Castiel absently pushes half a pancake around his plate and shrugs. "Oh, my uncle called. He… he wants to come visit, actually."

"What? That's awesome, dude!" Charlie claps.

"No, it's really not."

Gabe begins polishing his sticky fingers. "How come?"

"Well, for one thing, my uncle hates me. And secondly, I'm not sure if my sister will be allowed to come, as well."

"Oh, you have a sister?" Gabe suddenly perks up. "Is she hot?"

"She's twelve."

Gabe blinks, clearly undeterred. "…Is she hot?"

"What? No - You're not trying to get with my sister, okay, Gabe?" Castiel shakes his head. "But, anyway… If my uncle believes he can come visit without Anna, then he's mistaken. I'm not seeing him without her."

Charlie not-so-discreetly breaks off another piece of pancake and frowns. "Why not? Have you guys got some bad water under the bridge or something?"

"I guess you could say that…"

"Lemme guess," Gabe rolls his eyes. "He's another homophobic ass-wipe, amiright?"

Castiel smiles unpleasantly. "That's right."

"Ah, screw him then!"

"It's not that simple, Gabe," He shakes his head. "As much as I'd like to run away and pretend that the man doesn't exist, I can't do that; I have to think about my sister."

Charlie touches his arm gently, forehead crinkled with worry. "He hasn't… I mean, he doesn't… you know…"

"He's not a very pleasant individual," Castiel says sourly. "He's someone who believes that with enough persuasion, anyone can bend against their own nature. He can't stand the fact that I am who I am, so he punishes me for it. Maybe some twisted part of him actually believes that it's for my own good, I don't know…"

"That's a load of crap," Gabe spits. "If he thinks he's doing it for your good, then he's seriously messed up in the head. He's just another selfish bigot, Cassy."

Castiel sighs. "I know, I know… But I won't leave Anna alone with him for longer than I have to."

"You can't go back to a man who… who does that sort of stuff to you!" Charlie cries. "We could tell Bobby. He could help you and your sister out -"

"And risk getting us separated?" Castiel swallows thickly. "My uncle has never hurt Anna, but maybe if I was gone permanently… Well, I'm not sure what he'd do. I'd rather take the odd beating than leave her behind and risk her safety."

He's too busy staring down at the soggy pancakes to notice Kevin crawling towards him, sitting at the foot of the bed as he lifts his hand up to pat his knee comfortingly. Castiel takes a shuddered breath, smiling gratefully down at the smaller boy. Kevin is like the little brother he never had - so much like Anna with his meekness, but strong beneath the surface. He can see something flashing in his dark brown eyes, like a secret message directed only at him, telling him that everything is going to be okay. He's not sure if it's true, or if he should even allow himself to hope, but the genuine concern he sees in his friends' faces is enough to make him want to sob; he's not sure how he ever survived without family like this before.

"Don't worry, dude. We've got your back," Charlie says softly, still touching his arm. "If that ass tries to lay a hand on you, then we'll wipe him out."

Castiel huffs a laugh. "That's much appreciated. Thank you."

"That's what pals are for," Gabe slings an arm around his shoulder. "We'll quite happily destroy anyone who crosses you, alright?"

He flits his gaze between the three of them, smiling despite himself. With Kevin and Charlie steadying him with a hand, and Gabe pulling him close in a manly, one-armed hug, Castiel's not sure he's ever felt more at ease, other than when he's with Dean. He has everything to thank them for, and once again, he finds himself wondering how the hell he managed to find friends who would quite literally fight for him. He's not sure if he deserves it, but he's most certainly sure of one thing; it's the best feeling in the world.

* * *

"Okay, but seriously… strippers," Gabe says as he, Charlie and Castiel are making their way to the canteen for dinner.

Castiel groans. "For the last time: we are not hiring strippers!"

"We could get some guy ones for you, if that's what you're worried about," Charlie shrugs.

"That's not what I'm worried about! I'm more concerned that you both think it's okay to invite strippers to Kevin's party - without permission, for a start."

"Oh, Bobby wouldn't mind," Gabe waves him off. "He's single, last time I heard."

Castiel pinches the bridge of his nose. It's hard to think that just over an hour ago, these two assbutts were comforting him. How can they so easily switch from mature and helpful human beings, to a couple of sex-obsessed teens, in the space of five minutes? As soon as Kevin left to clean his room and pack some more of his bags, Gabe and Charlie were back with the ridiculous ideas, and the adamance that strippers were to be present at the party. Castiel may love them very dearly, but they can be seriously trying at times.

"We found a way around the confetti," He says in the most reasonable tone of voice he can muster. "But strippers are just… It's not going to happen, okay?"

Gabe pouts. "But, Cassy -"

"This institute is for under eighteens," He adds. "Which means that everyone here is a minor. It's not even legal to hire strippers."

"Yeah, not unless you know a guy, like I said!"

"And like I said, I really hope you don't know a guy… because that's just dangerous."

Gabe feigns hurt. "I'll have you know, I'm a very responsible individual."

"Why do I find that hard to believe?"

Charlie snorts. "Yeah, Gabe. That kinda sounds like bull."

"Well, gee, thanks for the support, red!"

"Hey, guys!" Castiel turns to find Dean making his way towards them, Sam cautiously following behind. "Long time no see, Cas."

Castiel flushes darkly at Dean's suggestive wink, trying not to remember the feel of his mouth exploring his body this morning. He hasn't told any of his friends about his and Dean's arrangement, about how they sometimes share a bed together. He's not sure he could handle Gabe's no doubt inappropriate reaction.

"Dean," He manages a smile, more than aware of Gabe and Charlie's eyes burning into the back of his skull, probably wondering what Dean meant. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, me and Sammy are gonna go get some burgers. Came to ask my mom if we could borrow the car."

"I thought it was your car?"

Sam scoffs. "He acts like it is, but it's actually our dad's."

"Yeah, well… it's gonna be mine someday."

"He's kinda got an unhealthy relationship with it," Sam whispers poorly to him. "He like, strokes it and everything."

Charlie and Gabe snicker behind their hands as Dean tries to splutter out some kind of excuse, but there's no point; they're too far gone. Castiel finds it quite adorable how Dean gets all flustered, desperately trying to justify his weird obsession with a vehicle. Charlie and Gabe simply poke fun at him until he's as red as the flannel shirt he's wearing.

"How's the party planning goin'?" He asks, trying to change the subject.

Castiel casts a weary glance in Charlie and Gabe's direction. "It's… It's interesting."

"Enough about that though," Gabe squeezes between Castiel and Dean, eying Sam up and down hungrily. "Hey, Samsquatch! You getting taller?"

Sam squirms a little. "Uh… Puberty, I guess."

"Are you and that, um… what's her name? June? Are you still going out?"

"Jess," Sam corrects him tightly. "And yes, we're still together."

Gabe pretends to stagger backwards, wiping imaginary tears out of his eyes. "You're breaking my heart, Sammy!"

Sam seems to shrink back a little, clearly trying to keep the look of mild disgust on his face under control. Castiel wants to laugh, but the murderous expression pinching Dean's brow is enough to keep him quiet.

"Goddammit… Quit flirtin' with my kid brother, ya perv!"

Gabe rolls his eyes. "Well, you can hardly blame me. I mean, look at that ass!"

Sam flushes darker than Dean, which is really saying something, and discreetly lowers his hands down to his rear, probably feeling for any abnormalities. Gabe watches him with no small amount of lust, which earns him a slap around the ear from Dean.

"I mean it, Gabe. I swear to -"

"Oh my god!" Charlie suddenly squeals, interrupting Dean's protective, big brother speech as she lurches down the corridor at full speed.

Castiel frowns as she collides into someone else at the opposite end of the corridor - a slightly shorter girl with blonde hair, dressed in baggy clothes and big boots. There's an older woman standing behind her. Her face is lined with concern, but her dark eyes are kind. Her honey-coloured hair just brushes past her shoulders, and there's something about the strength in her hard gaze that Castiel finds familiar. It's only when Charlie finally pulls away, and the blonde girl steps around her, that he realizes why.

"Jo?"

Dean whips around, eyes wide. "Jo? What - I don't… You're here?!"

From across the corridor, Castiel can see Jo smile. She looks tired - weary - but she doesn't protest when Dean comes charging towards her, lifting her up in the air and spinning her around with ease.

"I came for the party," She says between gasps of breathless laughter as Dean lowers her back to the floor. "Charlie told me you were throwing one for Kevin."

Everyone turns to Charlie with raised eyebrows; she didn't mention being in contact with Jo to anyone, which seems a little odd. With all attention on her, Charlie quickly turns the same colour as her hair, and Castiel gets the feeling he already knows why she kept it a secret. That crush of hers may well be reciprocated, after all.

"What? I-I just thought I should keep her in the loop!" She stammers, flitting a nervous glance at Jo.

When the two girls' eyes meet, Castiel swears he can feel a certain spark. It's like their attraction is alive - tangible. He wonders if that's what it's like when people look at him and Dean; is there a spark between them, as well?

"They've been writin' non-stop," The older woman says gruffly, in a straight-forward kind of way that sort of reminds him of Bobby. "The ol' fashioned way."

Gabe snorts. "You've been writing love letters to each other? Aw, how romantic!"

Charlie turns an even deeper shade of red (if that's even possible), but Jo, as always, remains straight-faced. She does quirk a small smile as she strides over to Gabe however, then casually punches him in the shoulder like she used to do.

"Nice to see you, Gabe."

"You too, Harvelle," He rubs his abused flesh with a grin. "Well, I'm glad you're still hot."

The older woman promptly walks up and slaps him around the ear, just like Dean did. There's fire in her eyes, but nothing about her speaks danger.

"Mind how you're talkin' to my baby, okay?"

Gabe winces. "Sorry, Ellen…"

"That's Jo's mom?" Castiel asks Dean in a hush, suddenly noticing the striking resemblance besides their shared intensity.

Dean grins. "The one 'n only. Hey, Ellen! Come meet my boyfriend."

Castiel almost feels like a bug under a microscope when Ellen turns to face him, but her stormy expression soon melts away into something warm and kind. She has that same appreciative look on her face that Jo gets when someone recognises a band she's talking about.

"You must be Castiel," She greets him gently, offering a hand. "Jo said Dean was interested in someone, but she never mentioned you were boyfriends."

Jo shrugs. "It's news to me."

"We were goin' on our first date last Jo heard," Dean explains to Ellen briefly. "But now we're… well, ya know. We're givin' it a go."

Castiel is overcome with a sudden wave of relief when Dean takes his hand, smiling down at him in the same way he always does; his eyes are filled with warmth and care, his lips curved softly at the edges. It's nice to know that he's not afraid to admit to their relationship. He even went out of his way to mention it, in fact.

"It's nice to meet you," He says, taking Ellen's hand carefully.

Ellen hums. "The boy's got manners. He's a keeper."

"Well, enough about my love life," Dean chuckles nervously, pulling Jo into a hug and pressing a kiss against her cheek. "The whole gang's back together. This party is gonna be awesome!"

"Yep. Especially with all those strip -" Gabe snaps his mouth shut at the stern look of disapproval on Ellen's face. "I mean… stript walls, of course. That old paper was nasty."

Ellen raises an eyebrow. "Stript walls? I hadn't noticed."

"Oh, it's… um… Bobby probably hasn't done it yet," Gabe shrugs. "That lazy bastard."

Before Ellen can thump Gabe for real, Castiel cuts in gently, pulling away from Dean only to steer Gabe in the opposite direction.

"We can tell you the party plans over dinner, if you want," He smiles tightly.

"Sounds like a plan," Dean claps his hands together. "C'mon, Sammy. Gabe won't bite unless you ask him to."

Ellen tuts, but a smile tugs at her thin lips as she follows them all into the canteen. It takes three rounds of burgers (Sam insisted, considering he and Dean didn't get to go out for dinner) and plenty of coffee, but they finally come up with an idea that straddles the line between reasonable, and completely ridiculous. Castiel figures it's the best they're going to come up with, what with Gabe and Charlie spewing nonsense about helicopters and bouncy castles every which way. He only hopes that it's the perfect send-off that Kevin deserves.


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm so sorry for the late chapter, guys... I've had some personal stuff going on this week. Plus, I've had a major case of writer's block, so this chapter isn't so great. Apologies for that. Hopefully, things should be better next time! Please leave a review if you have the time. You have no idea how much your feedback means to me**

* * *

It's no surprise that Castiel gets the job of distracting Kevin the morning of the party. Gabe (who initially volunteered) couldn't be trusted - for obvious reasons - and Charlie and Jo were too busy flirting with each other. So instead of helping set up in the hall like everyone else, he's spending the morning in Kevin's room, assisting him on his final, mysterious project. Not that he minds; he'd much rather be here, watching Kevin patiently stamp delicate patterns into moulded sheets of glue, than in the over-crowded hall, hanging balloons off the ceiling or something.

Kevin is crouched on the ground, his slim fingers shaping the latest piece of his sculpture with careful precision. Castiel leans over the edge of the bed to get a peek, but it's useless; he still can't figure out what it's supposed to be. He knows that Kevin is very talented, and usually, his sculptures are instantly recognizable, but what he's working on right now looks like… well, nothing. Scattered on the floor around him are a couple dozen hexagons - pure, hardened glue, roughly the same thickness as a one-pound coin - each with their own unique design indented on the surface. From this angle, it kind of looks like a jigsaw puzzle, only disjointed and mismatched, with all of the pieces in the wrong place.

"So," He says casually, trying not to sound too curious. "What are you making?"

Kevin doesn't turn to face him, but he can see a small smile touching his lips. "I'm not telling you yet. You'll just have to wait."

Castiel huffs his disapproval, but lets the matter drop. Kevin said that he was going to show everyone the finished piece before he leaves, and considering that his mom is picking him up this afternoon, he won't have to wait too long.

"Are you going to miss it here?" He asks gently, not sure why the words came out of his mouth in the first place; he's usually not so forward.

"Of course," Kevin shrugs after a moment's pause. "This is my home."

"So, why are you going?"

"Because my mom misses me," He says, and Castiel can hear the choking in his voice, probably holding back tears.

Castiel's shoulders sag. "Do you feel ready to leave?"

"I don't think it's as simple as that."

"What do you mean?"

Kevin spares him a fleeting side-glance. "My counsellor says I'm ready to go."

"But how do you feel, Kevin?"

"I want to stay," He says, with no ounce of uncertainty. "But what I want isn't the same as what I need. I'm almost sixteen… I need to go back to school, to get into college."

Castiel hums, mainly because he's not quite sure what to say; he's never heard Kevin speak so much in one go, let alone heard anything about his family, or what he wants in life. It figures that he's the kind of person with ambition, who actually understands that going to school and college are important. He's the complete opposite of Castiel, which probably means he'll go far. And he deserves it; he really does.

"I'm going to miss you," He finally says, careful to keep his voice from wavering.

Kevin puts down his sculpture at that and turns to face him, smiling in that small, shy kind of way that he always does. His hand reaches out for Castiel's knee - a silent gesture that speaks more to him than any amount of words ever could. He's overcome with the urge to hug him, this boy who's become one of the greatest friends he's ever known over these past few weeks, but he refrains from doing so. Castiel has never been much of a hugger; knowing his luck, it would be extremely awkward for both of them.

And then, out of the blue, the door crashes open, and Gabe comes barrelling in. The look of wide-eyed horror on his face is enough to make Castiel groan; he was supposed to play it cool and not make it too obvious. He should've known that Gabe couldn't stick to such rules.

"Come quick!" Gabe wheezes - actually wheezes. "There's a flying a squirrel trapped in the hall!"

"Really, Gabe? Really?"

Gabe shoots him a glare, then turns to Kevin. "Come on, kiddo! You wanna come, right?"

"I didn't know that there were flying squirrels around here…"

"Well, clearly there are," Gabe insists, not missing a beat. "Now, come on! Before he finds a way out and flies off into the sunset!"

Kevin looks at Castiel with genuine concern, then slowly gets to his feet and follows Gabe out of the room, Castiel close behind. As they're half walking, half jogging, down the corridor, Castiel can feel his nerves sloshing back and forth in his stomach; he hasn't seen the hall in all its glory yet, and a part of him worries that maybe his friends derailed from the plan and went overboard with the decorations. He just keeps clinging to the knowledge that Ellen has also been with them for the past four hours, so surely it can't be too big of a disaster.

"Let me go in first," Gabe says once they've reached the double doors to the hall, slapping his arm protectively across Kevin's chest. "It could be dangerous."

Castiel snorts. "What do you know about flying squirrels, Gabe?"

"I'll have you know, I used to be a boy scout."

When Gabe pushes the doors open and quickly slips inside, all Castiel can see is darkness. The hall is shrouded in shadows, with only the dim light from the corridor spilling its way across the hardwood floor, creating a dust-speckled wedge of pale yellow that crosses to the other side of the room. Castiel squints, trying to spot any guests hiding in the dark, but to no avail. Him and Kevin exchange glances, and then go to follow Gabe.

No sooner than they've both passed through the doorway do the lights suddenly spring on, revealing practically all of the residents and staff (minus Michael, who's probably still sulking about Jo's return in his room) standing in a huge bulk before them.

"Surprise!" They all shout out in unison.

Castiel doesn't get a chance to move out of the way before Charlie is pulling a string attached to a bucket above their heads, spilling a load of confetti over him and Kevin. It's all a multi-coloured blur, and all he can hear is the sound of Gabe cackling in the background. He shakes himself from side to side, allowing the confetti to drift to the ground. Kevin is still blinking in shock at the sight of the hall - bursting with people, and decorated from floor to ceiling.

"You were supposed to wait for me to get past," Castiel grumbles at Charlie.

Gabe shrugs. "Yeah, well. There were supposed to be strippers, too, but the PC brigade wouldn't allow it."

"What's the 'PC brigade'?"

"Ignore him, Cas," Jo says, emerging from the crowd with a smirk on her face. "He's a great big bag of dicks, remember?"

Before Gabe can respond with something witty, Kevin is shoving past and making his way towards Jo, grinning widely as he throws himself against her. It's so unlike Kevin, who's usually so stoic and reserved, that even Jo looks a little taken aback as she slowly wraps her arms around him.

"Hey, Kevin," She smiles, squeezing him tightly. "How's it going?"

Kevin's eyes are shining as he pulls back. "I thought I was never going to see you again."

"Aw, c'mon. I wouldn't let that happen," She punches him in the shoulder. "Now stop being a big wuss and come dance!"

The whole crowd erupts into applause as the music turns on - full blast. Castiel has half a mind to cover his ears, but he's too busy smiling to give a damn about the potential damage to his hearing. He watches with a laugh as Jo drags poor Kevin to the dance floor, soon joined by Gabe and Charlie who are all but grinding against each other as the song picks up.

"Oh, yeah!" Charlie throws her arms in the air. "Let's party, bitches!"

* * *

An hour into the party, Castiel finds himself a quiet little spot at the back of the room. He's quite content watching over everything that's going on; Charlie and Jo dancing to some godawful pop song, Gabe and Garth trying to play jenga with cocktail sausages (and failing miserably), Ellen and Bobby getting the cake set up for later, Meg more or less attacking Kevin against a wall in some shady corner… He almost steps in on that last one, but the look on Kevin's face - somewhere between besotted and terrified - holds him back. There's no point in sabotaging maybe his only chance with a girl like Meg (even Castiel, who's as gay as they come, can appreciate her dark, thorny sort of beauty; she's the kind of girl that boys love to date, but would never dream of introducing to their parents).

"C'mon, Short Round," Meg says, her seductive whisper somehow domineering over the booming music. "Last chance before you leave…"

Castiel snorts, then let's his eyes wander away from Meg and Kevin. The party is better than he expected it to be; honestly, he imagined some drab little get together with childish party games and cheap decorations, but this is like something out of a movie. There are balloons and banners and snacks in bowls and a working stereo and even tablecloths, for Christ's sake! There's hardly anyone even sitting down, but the small touch really makes a difference. Or maybe he's just weird and easily impressed.

The smile on his face instantly drops when he spots Lucifer though, watching him from across the room. His dull blue gaze is piercing, even in the darkness of the hall, and Castiel can feel a shudder run through his body. He remembers what he said to him the other day, about apologizing to Kevin, and then seeing all of those tools on his desk. He should really tell Bobby about that; Dean said that Lucifer can't be trusted, so giving him access to dangerous items is asking for trouble. But there's something stopping him from ratting Lucifer out - not fear, or the schoolyard rule of 'not snitching', but something deeper. It's like a gentle tug, almost like a comfort, telling him that Lucifer isn't planning anything malicious, that he can trust him. But who does he trust more? His own boyfriend, or a stranger who takes pleasure in knocking people's work onto the floor? Obviously he trusts Dean more, but that still doesn't make him want to say anything. Why is he so bothered about Lucifer getting into trouble?

As if he can read his thoughts, Lucifer quirks a smug smile, lifting his hand in a fingered wave, and continues to stare. Castiel is about to cross the room and ask him what the hell he wants, when a hand is suddenly being thrust into his face. It's a large, rough (and very familiar) hand, criss-crossed with thin white scars - worker's hands.

"May I have this dance?"

Castiel tears his eyes away from Lucifer, and smiles up at Dean. "Running a little late, aren't you?"

"Sorry about that," Dean shrugs, arm still extended. "My mom was takin' forever to get ready… she had all this paperwork to sort through and stuff. I left without her in the end, told her I'd meet her here."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't change your mind."

Dean's smile droops into a frown. "What? Why would I change my mind?"

"It doesn't matter," Castiel finally takes his hand, allowing Dean to help him to his feet (despite not being a delicate damsel in distress) and waves him off; he doesn't want Dean to think of him as some clingy, over-paranoid boyfriend.

"So," Dean thankfully doesn't push the subject any further. "How about that dance, huh?"

Castiel glances back to where Lucifer was sitting. The chair is now empty, and Lucifer is nowhere to be seen. He thinks he maybe spots him leaving through the back door - the one that leads outside - but that could just be his mind playing tricks on him. Either way, it's a relief to see him go; now he can enjoy the rest of the party without constantly looking over his shoulder (well, until Mary arrives, that is).

"I… I can't dance," He turns back to Dean, lifting a shoulder.

Dean snorts as he tugs on his arm, carefully weaving their way through the crowd. "Pfft... And you think I can?"

"If neither one of us can dance, what's the point in even trying at all?"

"Because, Cas, that's what you do at parties; you make a fool of ya'self, and then you just laugh it off. S'no big deal if you fall over or something."

"Who said anything about falling over?"

"I thought you said you can't dance?"

"I'm not that bad!"

"Oops," Dean glances over his shoulder, grinning widely. "Sorry, Cas. My bad."

Castiel tries to keep his knees from buckling; he admittedly has a weakness for Dean's dazzling smiles. "Fair warning though: I may tread on you."

Dean chuckles - the low, rumbling noise barely audible above the music. "I was gonna say the same thing to you."

The 'dance floor' is really just a square of empty space, cornered off by a few balloons. Jo and Charlie have since moved on, leaving him and Dean alone. He's not sure if that's better or worse; on one hand, he gets Dean all to himself, and on the other hand… he gets Dean all to himself. It's really rather confusing.

As soon as they step between the balloons, the fast-paced music playing in the background switches to something much softer, gentler. The lazy track feels like warm honey oozing over his skin, relaxing him into a semi-conscious state of dreaminess. He almost forgets that he's standing here with Dean; he's too busy rocking from side to side, his eyes slipping closed as the music washes over him. It sounds like one of the old songs his mom used to play in the weeks after his dad left. She'd fall asleep on the couch with a half-empty bottle of wine, letting the music drift upstairs to Anna's room. Castiel would sit on the edge of her bed, stroking her long red hair, and wait until the music sang her to sleep.

When he opens his eyes again, Dean is watching him bemusedly.

"You know this song?"

Castiel flushes. "No. No, I just… It's nice."

"I didn't plan this by the way," Dean jerks his head towards the stereo, where Ellen, Charlie and Jo are watching them with matching grins. When Charlie catches his eye, she gives him an encouraging thumbs up and winks.

"We don't have to do this," Castiel says, suddenly worried that Dean is uncomfortable. "Like I said, it's pretty much pointless. And this song is very slow and… well, you know."

Dean lifts an eyebrow. "Romantic?"

"Yes…"

"That a problem?"

Castiel stiffens when Dean's arms wrap around his waist, pulling their chests flush together. "I, um… N-No. That's not a… a problem, per se, but I -"

"What's wrong, Cas? Not much of a romantic?"

"I wouldn't say that," He jumps a little when Dean's lips find their way to his neck. "J-Just inexperienced."

Dean trails his mouth up along Castiel's neck, pausing at his ear to nibble on the lobe, and then starts peppering kisses across his cheeks. He can't help but smile, the air gasping out of his lungs as Dean finally finds his mouth. He can feel Dean smiling against his lips, the gentle curve scraping his stubbly face across Castiel's. The slight burn, paired with the pressure of Dean's fingers resting on his hips, sends a jolt of pleasure down his spine. There's heat pooling in his stomach, the beating of his heart quickening with each stroke of Dean's tongue.

"Man, I could do this all night," Dean says softly as they pull away, bringing their foreheads together.

Castiel smiles. "I told you I'm getting better."

"Mhm. That you are."

With their faces so close, Castiel can pick out the tiny flecks of dark brown and rusty orange in Dean's eyes. The splattering of freckles across his nose also vary in size and shape - from minuscule dots, to decent-sized splotches. There's the fading line of a scar on his bottom lip, and a smudge of red on his chin (maybe a shaving accident?). But even with all of these 'faults', as you may call them, Castiel still can't see Dean as anything but beautiful.

"You're starin'," Dean murmurs, lifting his chin so their eyes meet. "See somethin' you like?"

Castiel's heart is thumping so loudly, he's afraid that Dean can hear it. But even with his ribcage close to bursting, he can't help the words from gushing out: "You're beautiful." There. He actually said it out loud.

Dean blushes deeply, and for a moment, Castiel is worried that he said the wrong thing. He knows that Dean is funny with compliments; they don't really agree with him, unless they're of the joking variety. But then, thankfully, he cups one side of his face in a large, warm hand, and smiles down at him - with nothing but pure adoration in his twinkling eyes.

"You too, Cas."

It's only then he realizes that they're already dancing. Well, if spinning around in slow, lazy circles counts as dancing, anyway. Suddenly conscious of that fact, he can't help but tread on one of Dean's feet, just like he warned him he might.

"Sorry!"

"Don't worry about it," Dean chuckles, then winces when he does it again. "You really do suck at dancin', don'tcha?"

"You were warned."

Dean's laughter dies in his throat when Castiel reaches forward, brushing his hair back, and flits his eyes over his face. They're dangerously close now. Dean's breath is puffing against his lips - coming out in short, uneven bursts - and his fingers are trembling as he grabs for Castiel's hand, pulling it close to his chest. They've stopped moving now. The music is still playing, the words corny and romantic and… scarily accurate, actually. Who knew that someday, he'd be dancing with some boy with a face like a god, comparing his own love life to some cheesy love song? It's strange, how quickly your life can turn on its head.

"You know," Dean says with low, rumbling chuckle. "I can't believe I'm doin' this…"

Castiel cocks his head to the side. "I thought you were a romantic?"

"You've gotta be kiddin' me?"

"I think you're doing fine."

"I'm just makin' this up as I go along…"

Castiel shrugs. "Isn't that what everyone does? Life isn't mapped out, Dean. You might think you're following a path, but it's all completely random. That's what makes it so exciting."

"Are you gettin' all philosophical on me now?"

"Honestly… I was just making that up as I went along."

Dean blinks down at him for a moment, and then a grin breaks out across his face. "See. I knew you had a sense of humour somewhere."

Castiel goes to respond, but the sound of Gabe's voice calling over the crowd beats him to it.

"Who wants cake?!" He shouts, earning a chorus of cheers.

Even from where they're standing, Castiel can see the cake towering above people's heads. With six tiers of alternating flavours (chocolate, vanilla, and lemon, he guesses) and enough multi-coloured sprinkles to put a rainbow to shame, it is rather impressive. He'll have to apologise to Gabe for ever doubting him.

"You wanna get outta here?" Dean whispers against the shell of his ear.

Castiel balks. "You're saying no to cake? Are you feeling ill or -"

"Trust me, if it was pie, you wouldn't be so lucky," Dean grips his forearm gently. His hand is shaking, and his face is suspiciously pink.

"Dean, are you okay?"

Without a moment's warning, Dean yanks him forward. Their lips crash together with a fervent, desperate kind of urgency. It takes him only a moment to catch up and kiss him back. His stomach is in knots as runs his hands up Dean's back, resting on his shoulders for a second before tangling themselves in his hair. Dean groans at the tugging sensation, looping his fingers through Castiel's jeans and pulling him even closer. Castiel can feel himself quickly hardening against Dean's thigh, his pulse leaping with frenzied excitement.

Dean suddenly pulls back, trembling as he cups Castiel's face. "Do you wanna get outta here?"

"Oh," Castiel breathes. It's only now - with Dean's cheeks the colour of Charlie's hair, and his voice dropped to a low whisper - that he really understands the question.

"We don't have to, Cas. Not if you don't want -"

"No," He covers his hands over Dean's. "No, I… I want to."

He has no idea what he's doing. Are they too young for this? Are they moving too quickly? Should he be listening to his upstairs brain instead of his… well, you know? He doesn't have a clue. But Dean is watching with him with a hooded gaze, and he's already half-hard in his jeans - and there's no way that Dean hasn't noticed that yet. So, no. He's not thinking rationally right now, but who even cares? He's a teenage boy, and this is what they do.

"Alright," He sucks in a deep breath and squeezes Dean's hands. "Lead the way."

* * *

Everything is a blur of lips and teeth and tangled legs as they stumble down the corridor. Castiel can't even see where they're going; he's too busy attacking Dean's mouth with an embarrassing amount of force. They haven't even reached a bed yet, and he's already fumbling with Dean's shirt buttons. He's really going to hate himself for this later.

"Oof," He jumps as his back hits something hard. It's a door, judging by the cold metal digging into his spine. He doesn't have to worry about that for too long though; Dean's turning the handle and pushing them both inside before he gets the chance to complain.

Castiel expects to the hit the edge of a bed - his bed, hopefully - and fall backwards onto the mattress in style. But, no. This isn't a bedroom at all. It's cold and dank and stacked with boxes on either side of them. Castiel can smell something sharp - like cleaning supplies. They're in a cupboard, he realizes with a start. Of all the places in the building, Dean brought them to a cupboard for… well, for whatever this is. How romantic.

He wrinkles his nose. "This is terribly clichéd."

"I don't see you complain'," Dean mumbles against his lips. It is true, to be fair; he's not exactly stopped kissing him or anything. Maybe he's passed the point of caring.

Dean shuts the door with his foot, then flicks the lights on. Something buzzes for a few seconds above their heads, and then the room is engulfed in a nasty white light. Everything is suddenly too bright; he can see cobwebs clinging to the corners of the ceiling, and the dirty rags stuffed in a ball on the creaking, metal shelves.

"Turn them off," He says breathlessly, still trying to undo the buttons of Dean's flannel shirt.

Dean doesn't even question it, just turns them back off and continues kissing him. His large hands cover Castiel's, pushing them gently aside and opening his shirt with ease. Castiel feels stupid for taking so long.

It feels like there's a lump of stone in his throat as Dean retakes his hands, pressing them against his bare chest, and runs them down his body. Castiel is in a dream; he must be. Dean's upper half is hard and chiselled in places - his arms thick beneath his sleeves - but his stomach is soft to the touch. Castiel's fingers brush over a tiny patch of hair trailing to his bellybutton. There's a sliver of pudge poking over his jeans, and Dean shies away when Castiel's hands slide over it.

"Don't," Castiel whispers, his voice low and scratchy. "You're beautiful."

Even in the dark, he can see Dean blushing. "You've gotta stop sayin' that, man."

"But it's the truth."

When Dean starts unbuttoning Castiel's shirt, something snaps. He flinches back, as if Dean's touch burns, and backs away against the wall. The hurt that flashes across Dean's face is too much to bear. He looks away, staring down at the floor in silence.

"Cas… Cas, baby. I-I'm sorry… I thought… I thought you wanted -"

"I do," He croaks; he's shocked by his own change of heart. Running his hands over Dean's chest felt so right, and he was so certain that he wanted the same thing, But then Dean was touching him, and it was all too much. Dean has seen him topless before - well, not really, but he's kissed his bare shoulders in bed, and touched his collarbone. It's not that he's worried about, it's… He doesn't want to scare Dean away. If he saw them, then he'd finally figure it out. He'd know everything - he'd have to tell him about his uncle, and what he does. He's just not ready for that yet. He wants Dean to see him as relatively normal for just a little bit longer.

"Look at me, Cas," Dean is suddenly in front of him again, shirt buttoned back up. "Let's go back to the party, yeah? Let's just forget about this…"

"I apologise."

"What?" Dean snaps; if Castiel didn't know better, he'd think he was angry. "Hey. Don't you apologise, alright? I was the dick boyfriend who pushed you too far."

"No, Dean. You didn't. It was me."

Dean fixes the collar of his shirt, then takes Castiel's hand and leads him to the door. "Let's quit playin' the blame game and get outta here. I want cake."

Castiel splutters a laugh. "You're really okay with this?"

"Geez, Cas! Who d'you think I am? It's gonna take more than blue balls to scare me off."

Castiel's heart clenches. What the hell did he do to deserve Dean? Seriously. He's funny and kind and gorgeous and understanding and, well… he's as close to perfect that Castiel has ever came across. Maybe he's just biased, who knows? But there's no way Dean is getting as good a deal out of their relationship as he is. It seems kind of unfair.

"Hey," He grabs Dean's arm and pulls him close, pecking his lips with a kiss. "Thank you… for putting up with me."

"Stop actin' like you're burden or something, alright? You're not, Cas."

"I know how difficult I can be."

Dean rolls his eyes. "If you're talkin' about bein' in the 'loony bin', then shaddup."

"Well, it's not exactly appealing… being crazy and everything."

"You're not crazy, Cas."

"Don't you wonder why I'm in here?"

Dean licks his lips. He does that a lot, especially when he's nervous. "It's crossed my mind, I've gotta admit… But I don't really care, man. I like you, alright? It don't matter to me if you dance around naked and howl at the moon. Nothing's gonna change that."

"Interesting," Castiel chuckles. "But, rest assured, I'm not a werewolf."

"That's good to hear," Dean kisses him once more before opening the door. "C'mon. Kevin's mom will be here soon. We better go say goodbye."

* * *

By the time they get back to the hall, Mary and Sam have arrived. Luckily, Dean spots them first, which gives him time to duck back into the crowd and pretend he and Castiel haven't been together for the past half hour or so. Castiel doesn't want to let go of his hand, as silly as that sounds, but he'd rather Mary not find out about them; if she were to take Dean away from him, hes really not sure what he'd do. Jo and Kevin will both be gone by the end of the day, and as much as he loves Charlie and Gabe, he feels like his support system is starting to crumble. Losing Dean would just be too much to bear.

"I'll seya tonight, okay?"

Castiel frowns. "I thought we were supposed to be 'laying low' for a while?"

"Screw that. I know Kevin leavin' is gonna be tough for you, Cas. I wanna be there for you…"

"How sweet," Castiel says with a smirk, just to make Dean blush. "No, but seriously. Thank you, Dean."

"Yeah, yeah… That's enough chick-flick moments for tonight."

Dean glances back at his mom (who still hasn't noticed them yet) before kissing him quickly on the cheek. It's feather-light and lasts for just a second, but Castiel can feel it burning into his skin even after Dean has disappeared into the crowd.

"There you are!" A hand suddenly slaps him on the back.

Castiel winces slightly. "Can you please stop hitting me, Gabe? I'm getting bruises."

"Cry-baby. Come on! Kevin's about to show us his thingamajig."

"You mean his sculpture?"

"That's the one!"

Castiel's heart leaps a little; he's been waiting to see what this final project really is since day one. For weeks, he's been helping Kevin with bits here and there, never having a clue what the finished result will look like. Now he's finally going to know. It almost feels like the end of an era, in a strange way.

Kevin leads everyone down the corridor and into the foyer. He looks slightly uncomfortable with all of this power, like he's not sure what to do with it. There's an older woman with him as well; Castiel realizes with a pang in his chest that it's his mother. She's quite small and slender, but Castiel senses there's a hardness to her deep down. Like Kevin, she has dark eyes and toffee-coloured skin, with straight, dark falling just above her shoulders. Her smile is tight, but there's a softness to her as well. She has 'mother' written all over her.

In the foyer, taped against the wall, is a white sheet. It's covering something - Kevin's sculpture - and everyone cranes their necks to try and get a peek.

"A couple days after I heard Kevin was leavin' us, I asked him to make us somethin' to remember him by," Bobby's gruff voice emerges from the crowd as he steps up beside Kevin and his mom. "I ain't gotta a clue what the boy's gone and done for us, but I bet it's somethin' real special."

Bobby takes Kevin's hand and shakes it. Castiel might be seeing things, but he swears that his eyes are glistening.

And then, without further ado, Kevin reaches up and pulls the sheet away. Everyone shares a collective gasp, and then the room falls silent. He imagines they're all too busy appreciating the amazing work to chat right now.

Castiel feels stupid, quite frankly. He was so focussed on looking closely - at all the tiny details - that he didn't even think about taking a step back. He sees now that he was missing the bigger picture, quite literally. On the wall in front of him is a mosaic of glue tiles, all pieces of a much larger puzzle. From a distance, all of the strange and seemingly random designs join up to create an image - Opal Grove, and all of its residents. He sees Bobby flipping burgers in the kitchen, Charlie reading, Jo playing guitar, Gabe with his fingers in a jar of peanut butter, Meg examining her nails in the corridor, Ruby sleeping on the porch, Lucifer drinking from his smiley face mug, Michael sulking in his room (he has to laugh at that), Garth hugging some poor nurse from behind, Mary reading her notes… And then, with a burst of surprised pleasure, he spots himself. He isn't off in some corner, looking sorry for himself; he's in the middle, actually. There's a boy sat at the table beside him, staring down at something in his hands. It's him and Kevin, he realizes, making this very mosaic he's looking at now. Above the picture, the words 'Opal Grove' are carved into the glue tiles, standing out proudly for everyone to see.

"Holy crap," Someone finally breaks the silence - Dean. "That's frickin' awesome, dude!"

A chorus of praise suddenly rings out from the crowd. Kevin looks bashful, but relieved. His mom has her arm wrapped around him; she looks like the proudest parent in the world.

"Thanks, everyone," He says with a shy smile.

His happiness quickly switches to terror when everyone starts rushing at him to say their goodbyes. Castiel opts to stay behind with Jo, Charlie and Gabe, waiting until the crowd has dispersed before saying anything. When it's just them and a few others left (including Dean), Castiel walks up to Kevin and finally pulls him in for that hug. Turns out, he's actually not that awkward of a hugger. Well, maybe he does sort of just stand there, patting Kevin's back, but he expected much worse.

"Thank you, Kevin," He says quietly. "For including me and… Well, thanks for everything."

Kevin gives him one of those silent nods and smiles. "You're welcome, Castiel."

From then on out, there's plenty more hugging and lots of crying. Surprisingly, Gabe is the first one to burst into tears, though he blames it on the onions (despite there being no onions in sight). It doesn't help that Ellen and Jo are leaving at the same time. Castiel can practically hear Dean's heart breaking, especially when he pulls her in for a hug. At least now he knows that writing is an option, as Charlie so kindly forgot to mention.

"You two better promise to visit, okay?" Gabe points a finger at them both.

Kevin shrugs. "You won't be here forever, Gabe."

"Ugh. Don't remind me."

Watching Kevin leave with his mom is not as hard as Castiel thought it would be. He's going to miss him, of course, but like Mary said, at least he's getting out of here. He's come to learn that Opal Grove is far from a bad place, but the fact that Kevin is officially 'well' enough to leave should be something to be grateful for.

"Go get ya stuff, Jo," Ellen ruffles her daughter's hair fondly, then turns to Bobby to talk. They both turn their backs away from everyone else; either they're flirting, or the conversation is a private matter.

"Hey," Castiel almost has a heart attack when Dean touches his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Castiel sees Mary watching them, and flinches back. "Dean. Your mom's over there."

"So? C'mon, Cas… I just wanna know you're okay."

"I'm fine, Dean."

"Cas," His voice cracks slightly, almost as if he's upset. "Who even cares if she figures it out? I just wanna talk to my boyfriend, alright?"

Castiel's shoulders sag. "I know. I'm sorry, I just… You're not the one who has to explain themselves in counselling."

"And you're not the one who has to live with her," Dean points out. "Trust me, every family dinner is like an interrogation. She's already guessed I'm seein' someone."

Castiel smirks. "Touché… But can we please just keep it quiet for a little while longer?"

"Sure," Dean shrugs, but there's visible hurt in his eyes. "If that's what you want."

Before Castiel can amend whatever it is he's just broken, Jo is crashing into him. Her arms wrap around his body and almost lift him off the ground. It's scary, really, just how strong such a small person can be.

"Jo? What -"

"You sneaky sonofabitch," She grins at him. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Tell you what…?"

"My guitar, you idiot!" She suddenly thrusts her guitar - newly fixed and fully functional - into his face, almost poking his eye out. "I thought they took it away! I thought I'd never be able to play it again!"

Castiel's eyes roam over the guitar. Last time he saw it, the strings were snapped and the neck was half broken. From what Gabe told him, Michael had thrown it on the ground right in front of her. He doesn't know the full story, or why the guitar is so important to Jo, but it was enough to make her beat Michael to a bloody, unconscious pulp.

"What makes you think I did this?"

Jo rolls her eyes. "Quit playing games with me, Novak! The label has your name on it."

"But -"

"Look, I get it. You're not the touchy-feely type," Jo's voice is uncharacteristically gentle; even the punch to the arm she gives him is considerably less painful than usual. "But, thanks, man. You have no idea how much this means to me."

Castiel goes to say something else - to convince her that it really wasn't him who fixed it - but she's already swinging her bags over her shoulder and heading back to her mom. She pulls Charlie in for a quick kiss before she leaves (and yes, Charlie's face sets aflame), and then steps out the door with a wave.

Once she's gone, Dean gives him a funny look. "That was pretty awesome, Cas. I didn't know you were handy with tools…"

"I'm not," He shakes his head, still staring at the empty space where Jo was stood.

An icy cold suddenly rushes over him. He thinks back to Lucifer, and the way he looked at him from across the room earlier, and those tools on his desk… But it doesn't make any sense. Why would Lucifer fix Jo's guitar, and then give Castiel the credit? As far he knows, Lucifer doesn't like either of them! Sure, he said he was sorry about knocking over Kevin's stuff, but that doesn't exactly make him a saint. Why would he be so nice to him?

In that moment right there, Castiel decides he's going to find out; he's going to find Lucifer, talk to him, and get to the bottom of this. Something is clearly going on that he doesn't understand, and hell if he's going to stay in the dark for any longer.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks for all of your lovely comments, guys! It means a lot. I hope you enjoy the chapter**

* * *

Something is different about Mary. It's in the way she's looking at him, all distant and frosted with suspicion. Her hands are folded over her knees, wrapped over each other. She's sat in her chair for a change. Everything about her is icy cold; even the usual warmth of her quiet smile and blue eyes is lost today. He didn't think that losing the comfortable companionship (if you can even call it that) of his counsellor would make him feel so… well, empty. But it does. He suddenly doesn't know what to say or do. Should he leave? Should he try and make conversation? There's something in her cold, hard stare that seems to be keeping him in place, silently chastising him. For some reason, he feels very, very small.

"I didn't write about the party," He says in a rush, if only to break the silence. "Sorry, I just… I was busy."

Mary's face softens. It's as if she's shaking herself out of a dream. The tired lines in her forehead even out, and the warmth floods back into her eyes. She smiles. "That's okay, Castiel. I'm guessing you had other things on your mind?"

"Other things?"

"Well, Kevin leaving must have been tough on you," She says tightly, the muscles around her mouth stretching painfully.

Castiel shifts in his chair. "Um… Yeah. Yeah, it was. But he had to go. It was for the best."

"That's a very mature way of looking at it."

"You taught me to look at it that way."

Mary's smile cracks slightly. "Castiel… If there was something you wanted to tell me, but maybe felt like you couldn't… Well, what I'm saying is, you can tell me. You can tell me anything."

"There's nothing."

"I don't think that's true."

"I don't have to tell you anything," Castiel swallows. "Your my counsellor. You have to listen to me. I don't have to say anything I don't want to."

Mary unwraps her legs and leans forward, her mouth a thin line. "But if this thing you didn't want to tell me was something bad, or something… illicit. Castiel, you do realize it's my job to report back anything that might -"

"There's nothing to say, okay?"

Mary stands from her chair, throat rippling as she rounds her desk. "I'm just going to be straight with you, Castiel, because you're a bright kid, and I don't want to patronize you."

"What is it?"

"My son," She says with a quirk of a smile. "Dean. Is there something going on between you?"

Castiel goes rigid. Icy hands seize his lungs, his breath gets caught. He's falling - spinning. What does he do? What does he say? It must be obvious in the way his fingers thread together tightly in his lap, and the rapid thumping of his heart that surely she can hear in the quiet of this small, office room. It's got to be clear as day on his face - the lie, slowly breaking free from its shell and emerging for Mary to see with her own eyes. He can feel these past few weeks with Dean quickly slipping through his fingers; if Mary finds out, she'll separate them. He knows she will. It's unethical, dating your counsellor's son. God, he was so stupid! Did he really believe that something so amazing as what he has with Dean would last forever? You'd think he'd have realized by now: all good things come to an end eventually.

"Castiel," Mary's voice cuts through the fog in his mind. "Castiel, can you hear me?"

"There's nothing going on," He says, gripping the arms of his chair to keep himself from cutting into his palms. "We're just friends. Acquaintances. H-He comes around now and again, to see Jo and -"

"Jo isn't here anymore, Castiel. He comes here for you, doesn't he?"

Castiel shakes his head, the blood inside sloshing back and forth like a boat on the ocean. "I don't even know him that well, Mrs. Winchester. We only talk if we bump into each other. He usually hangs out with Charlie and Gabe - not me, I swear."

"Why are you so worried, Castiel?"

"Because you're accusing me of… well, I don't know!"

"But if you've got nothing to hide, why are you shaking like that?"

Castiel glances down at his hands. The armrests are marked with little half-moons, his knuckles white from exertion. His arms are trembling. With a shaky breath, he tightens his fists into balls and stares Mary straight in the eye.

"It's wrong," He says as coolly as he can. "There's a line we can't cross… I know that. I'm your patient. Dating your son would just be… A-And why do you even think I'm gay, for a start?"

Mary arches a brow. "Your uncle is a religious man who, according to what you've told me, seems to have it out for you, but not your sister. Your whole life, you've felt constricted - like you've had to hide who you really are. You were sent to us without much of an explanation from your uncle other than he doesn't want 'your kind' living under his roof. It's really not difficult to put the pieces together, ya know?"

"Oh," Castiel deflates. All of a sudden, he's feeling pretty boring and predictable.

"Castiel… you being gay is not the problem here. Not at all. But if something is happening between you and Dean, you need to tell me. This isn't about me losing my job, because that's not gonna happen. I just don't want to see you getting hurt."

Castiel slowly unfurls his fists and stands up. "Nothing is going on," He says quietly, almost in a whisper. "Are we done here?"

Mary hesitates for a moment. He can see her jaw ticking, her fingers beating an anxious tune against her thigh. She doesn't believe him, but that's not what matters; she doesn't have the proof to say otherwise.

"Alright then. I suppose we could end it there," She says with a thin-lipped smile.

Castiel makes for the door, then pauses, one hand ready on the doorknob. For some reason, he thinks about Lucifer again. That seems to be happening quite often, actually; memories of their past conversations, or those chilling blue eyes watching him from across the hall, will pass through his mind without warning. It's like something is pushing him towards the other boy, urging him to find out the truth. Why is he here? What does he want from him? It's an itch he can't seem to scratch, and it's getting on his nerves.

"What do you know about Lucifer?" He asks before he can stop himself. "I-I mean Luke. How long has he been here for?"

Mary freezes up. It's a very subtle shift in her expression, almost as if she's trying to hide it, but Castiel can sense the fear coursing through her veins. Why is she afraid of Lucifer? Did something happen between them? Is that why Dean doesn't trust him?

"Why do want to know about Luke, Castiel?"

"I… I'm just curious."

"You should leave that boy alone," She says sharply. "Now, please… I have some paperwork to sort through."

"But -"

"That's it for today, thank you."

Castiel hovers in the doorway for a moment longer, then leaves Mary alone. That was the first time he's seen her break the counsellor façade, or the sickly, compassionate mask of a parent. Right then, in that moment, she was almost human. Castiel could see the cold sweat glistening on her skin, could hear the slight tremor in her voice… Like most people, the very mention of Lucifer was enough to make her squirm, only it was different with her. The terror on her face spoke of personal experience; it was raw, unadulterated fear.

He's starting to wonder if he really does want to find out more about Lucifer. If one boy is capable of reducing a strong woman like Mary Winchester into a trembling mess, then what kind of hope does he have? Maybe this time next week, he'll be chopped up in a plastic bag under Lucifer's bed… And maybe he'd deserve it.

* * *

In the spaces between worrying about Lucifer, and missing Kevin and Jo, and trying to understand why Mary was acting so strange in their session before, Castiel thinks about Dean.

It's like the default subject for his mind to settle on. When he's lying in bed, emptying his brain of all the crap going on in his life at the moment, it's Dean he thinks about. Always Dean. He thinks about his freckles and his eyes and his hands and his lips and voice… He thinks about dancing with him at the party last week, and then fumbling with the buttons of his shirt in a dodgy cupboard just minutes later. He thinks about the way Dean was so understanding when Castiel chickened out of having sex (or whatever it was they were going to do if he hadn't have pulled away like a coward). He thinks about Dean kissing him on the cheek - all secretive and sweet, like something out of a movie.

Everything about their relationship is perfect, and that's what terrifies him. Because how can things get any better? And if they can't get any better, then there's only one way they can get, and that's worse. When you reach the top, there's only one direction you can go. And it really doesn't help that Dean hasn't so much as texted him since Kevin's party.

He sits up in his bed, steely determination rushing through his body like adrenaline, and reaches for his phone. He debates between texting Dean, or calling him. He's always thought that texting was the easy option; when you send someone a message, you have the chance to review and amend any mistakes. It doesn't feel real. But on the phone, with the other person's voice tickling down your ear, there's that buzz of apprehension that squeezes the truth out of you. And he wants them to be honest with each other right now. He wants to know what Dean's thinking about - what he's really thinking about. If they have any chance of fixing this, they can't keeping wading through lie after lie; he doesn't want them to be like that.

With a deep breath, he punches in the number. The familiar doop, doop of the ringback tone almost lulls him to sleep, but he's too on edge to close his eyes. He doesn't think Dean's going to answer, but then something clicks, and a low voice crackles on the other end.

"Cas. Hey."

"Dean," He can't help but grin like a maniac. "Where have you been?"

"Uh… At home, I guess."

"I haven't heard from you," He says, mentally kicking himself for sounding so weak. The last time he saw Dean was a couple of hours after Kevin's party; he came to his room like he promised he would, but didn't stay the night. Castiel didn't question it then, but now his brain is swimming in a sea of panic and intense paranoia, and he's suddenly shaking like a leaf.

"I've been busy," Dean mumbles. "Look, Cas… I've gotta go."

Castiel's heart lurches. "What's going on? Is your dad still asking questions?"

"Don't worry. I haven't told them."

"That's not what I -"

"I'm tryin' to keep my distance, alright? Like you told me to! I mean, God forbid anyone else find out about us, right?"

Castiel flinches at the bitterness of Dean's words. "What? Dean, what are you talking about?"

"What the hell d'you think I'm talkin' about, Cas? You don't want people knowin' about us. Fair enough. You're, I dunno… ashamed or something. S'none of my business."

Castiel goes cold. "How could you even think that? You're amazing! You're -"

"Oh, sure. I'm amazing. Clearly not good enough to be your boyfriend though, right?"

"Dean, you are my boyfriend! And what do you mean I don't want people knowing? All of our friends know. Even Bobby knows!"

"Yeah, everyone except our families."

"You know we can't tell your mom. She's my counsellor!" Castiel isn't shaking with fear anymore, but with anger. "And besides! You were the one who said we should keep our distance! You were the one who didn't want your dad finding out."

"For your sake, Cas!" Dean hisses, like he's trying to keep his voice down. "Not mine. Ya know, as stupid as it sounds, I'd frickin' love to show you off to my folks!"

Castiel's heart is thumping. "You know it's not as simple as that, Dean. Your mom… she could separate us. Keep us apart."

"She's not like that, man. She's actually pretty goddamn awesome. And maybe if you stopped thinkin' about yourself for five minutes, you'd see that!"

"How is that fair?!"

"Whatever, Cas. I'm done here. I've got stuff to do, so -"

"You said you'd never leave me again!" Castiel tightens his grip on the phone. "You promised me, Dean. You promised."

There's a long stretch of empty silence. He imagines he can hear Dean's breath fluttering on the other end, but maybe that's just coming from him. Maybe he's really alone.

"Seya, Cas."

And then Dean hangs up, and the silence is pierced with a drawn-out beep. He clicks his phone shut and throws it across the bed, hands clawing through his hair. His knee is jerking up and down, his lungs aching with the effort of breathing in and out, in and out, in and out… He feels like he needs to throw up, but he hasn't eaten today. His stomach is on fire. His lungs are on fire. The pain rippling through his scalp is on fire. But the rest of him is cold - numb, empty, tired, and sick with fear. Is this it? Has Dean left him for good? Is it finally over?

A sob shudders through his chest, but he keeps it in. He wouldn't want to give whoever's in control of his sad little life the satisfaction of making him cry. Instead, he turns off the lights, slips under the covers, and closes his eyes.

* * *

Dean doesn't call back. Not that he expected him to, but it still hurts. It feels like the final nail in the coffin; their relationship is over. Excuse the teenage dramatics, but it's true, isn't it? He really messed things up this time. Dean honestly believes that he's ashamed of him, that he doesn't want people knowing that they're together, and that stings more than anything. He just wants to hold him and tell him how amazing he is, how happy and normal he makes him feel. He wishes they could be openly and disgustingly in love like every other couple out there, but that's not how the world works. Not for people like him. Not when he's dating his counsellor's son, of all people, and has a homophobic ass of an uncle who tries to beat the gay out of him every chance he gets. He doesn't have the luxury of kind and loving parents who couldn't care less who he dates, or the confidence to stand up to the man who keeps a roof over his head. He's a mess - an endless, winding mess of fear and self-loathing.

And that's why he needs to talk to Lucifer - because he's pathetic and weak, and for some insane reason, focussing his attention on the other boy seems to calm him down.

The door to Lucifer's room is shut, like it always is. There's no 'keep out' sign, or angst-riddled music playing on the other side, so Castiel takes his chance and knocks on the door. There's nothing but silence for a moment, and then he hears the creaking of a bed and the sound of footsteps coming closer. He stands stock still as Lucifer pauses at the door (he can hear his slow and steady breathing). His nails are biting into his palms, but the pain is overcome by the nausea rolling in his stomach.

"Who is it?" Comes Lucifer's calm drawl of a voice.

Castiel tries to compose himself. "It's me. It's, uh… It's Castiel."

The door swings open surprisingly fast. Lucifer is wearing jeans and a faded green shirt, one end tucked into his pants, and the other falling past his thigh. His dirty blonde hair is flattened against his head, like he's been lying on it. He's a few inches taller than Castiel, but the height difference certainly isn't jarring. He's a handsome guy, Castiel realizes - tall and scruffy and mysterious - but there's no attraction between them. Maybe it's because of his feelings for Dean, or maybe Lucifer's just not his type (not that he even has a type). Either way, even thinking about Lucifer in that way feels wrong. A part of him wonders if there really is something evil about him, and that's why the mere thought of being attracted to him makes his skin crawl, but he doesn't believe in all of that stuff. People can't be evil - twisted and sick, definitely, but not evil down to the core. Why is he overthinking this, anyway?

"Can I come in?"

Lucifer drags his cold blue eyes over him. "Is there a reason for this little drop in?"

"I want to know why you fixed Jo's guitar, and why you made out like it was me. I want to know what's going on with you."

"Very to the point," Lucifer nods. "I like that. Come on in…"

Castiel stalls for a second. He wasn't expecting it to be that easy. Lucifer has always seemed so hostile and private; he prepared himself for some kind of conflict or rejection. But now Lucifer is standing with his door wide open, watching him expectantly, and there's no going back.

"I don't even know you," Castiel says as he steps through the door. "And since when are you friends with Jo?"

Lucifer shrugs. "I'm not."

"Then why the hell did you fix her guitar? One minute you're knocking people's work onto the floor for the sake of it, and then you're doing good deeds? It just doesn't make any sense."

"I apologised for that," Lucifer sucks his teeth. "And as for the guitar… Well, I suppose I could sympathise. Possessions can mean a lot."

"Like your mug?"

Lucifer flits his gaze to the smiley face mug on his desk. The yellow paint has flaked off a bit, and there's a chip in the rim right above the left eye, but it's clearly well-loved. It's strange that a guy like Lucifer, who always seems so cold and distant, drinks from such a thing. The wide, cartoon smile is nothing like the grim line of Lucifer's mouth. Castiel has the bizarre idea that all of the goodness inside of him was somehow transferred to that mug. Maybe that's why he carries it around everywhere; a part of him is still clinging onto his old happiness.

"How's your relationship with Dean Winchester going?" Lucifer asks, completely rebuffing the question. "It's not exactly a wise decision, I've gotta say, but kudos to you. Bravo!"

Castiel stiffens. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, save the bad acting for someone who gives a damn, will you?"

"There's nothing going on between us."

"Right, okay. How about we both pretend you're telling the truth, and just move on?"

Castiel can feel blood rolling down the creases in his palms. His nails are getting too long for his own good. He's going to have to cut them soon.

"Why did you tell Jo it was me who fixed her guitar?"

"I didn't fancy the attention."

"But why me? You don't even know me!"

"Yeah," Lucifer's smile is ice cold. "You have mentioned that."

Castiel shoves his hands into his pockets before the cuts can get too deep. "I don't appreciate the way you keep looking at me, okay? And I don't get why you've taken such an interest in me and my friends, but I'd like you to stop."

"That's not what you want," Lucifer tilts his head to the side. It's something that Castiel does too often, and that makes him feel queasy. "You want to know why."

"That's not true."

"You're lying, Cassy," Lucifer grins triumphantly. "So I do interest you, huh?"

"Only my friends call me Cassy," He growls. "This was a mistake. I never should have come to see you…"

He turns towards the door - away from Lucifer's wicked grin and chilling eyes and stupid smiley face mug. He was an idiot for thinking that this would help in any way, that talking to Lucifer would somehow take his mind off Dean. But the worst part about is that Lucifer was right; he does want to know why, and that aching in his chest is still just a strong. But he won't be a puppet in one of Lucifer's sick mind games. If he's going to find out the truth, he'll have to do some snooping elsewhere.

"You look like him," Lucifer says just as his hand touches the doorknob. "Figures."

Castiel turns around slowly. "What did you say?"

The smile on Lucifer's face is like a locked door; there's so many secrets hiding behind that snarl, and the thought that one of them might have something to do with Castiel makes him want to throw up.

"Have a good day, Castiel."

* * *

Bobby comes to see him later on. He's fidgeting with the peak of his cap, the way he always does when he's nervous. Castiel knows what he's going to say even before he opens his mouth.

"Yer uncle is comin' to visit next week," Bobby says with a sigh. "He didn't mention Anna."

Castiel breathes deeply through his nostrils. "I'm not seeing him if she's not there."

"And no one's forcin' ya too, son. But it might be a good idea."

"Trust me… In no universe is that a good idea."

"Well, I just thought you should know," Bobby sighs again, scratching his chin as he turns to leave. "G'night, boy."

Castiel doesn't say a word. He's grateful that Bobby isn't the kind of person to stick around and give you an inspiring, pick-me-up speech on how to move forward and forgive. Right now, he'd rather be alone. Well, he'd actually prefer the company of one boy in particular, but he royally screwed that up for himself, didn't he?

He looks down at his hands; they're shaking. When he thinks about having to see Zachariah by himself, his stomach turns to stone. His back stings with the memory of what that monster did to him, and the tell-tale prick of tears starts to make his eyes itch. There's dried blood beneath his nails from where they bit deep into his palms. The cuts are already beginning to scab. This time next week, he'll forget it ever happening. He likes forgetting. It's like taking a drug and slipping into a state of blissful ignorance.

But tonight, he can't forget.

His trembling fingers slip through his hair, twisting and tugging at the strands until pain shoots through his scalp. He used to do this a lot when he wanted to feel something; he promised himself he'd never cut, not after what happened, but this felt like the safe alternative. The sting of nails against his skin blossoms like a happy flower. He can feel the other kinds of pain - the emotional, tiring kind of pain - slowly subside. One time, he ripped a whole chunk of hair out. He had to wear hats for weeks, just to hide what he'd done. If Zachariah knew that he was hurting himself, he'd hurt him twice as much. It took him a long time to understand that he didn't deserve it, that doing it to himself only gave his uncle an excuse to punish him for all of his ungodly sins. But now he feels like all of that progress is starting to unravel; he's starting to feel empty again - the kind of empty that only pain can fill.

He hates himself for doing it, but he calls Dean. It goes to answerphone, of course, and Dean's rich, rumbling voice tickles his ear.

"Dean. It's me," He says in a half-whisper when the beep sounds. "I just… I-I wanted to hear your voice. Stupid, I know, but I can't help it. I guess I'm just an idiot. I keep thinking that maybe you'll call or text or… I don't know. It's like minutes pass, and I forget what happened. I keep expecting to see you in the hall, but… well, you're never there. And I know it's my fault. I made you feel worthless, and I hate myself for that. I can't apologise enough. You're the opposite of worthless, Dean, you - you give my life meaning. That probably sounded pathetic, I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm saying. My head's all over the place." He takes a shaky breath. "I just want you to know… I miss you. And I'm very, profoundly sorry for what I said or did to make you feel worthless. Because you're not. In fact, you're everything to me. Please, just… just know that." His fingers are shaking when he hangs up. "Goodbye, Dean."

As soon as he puts his phone down, there's a tapping on the window. His spine tingles with alert as he spins around, almost falling off the edge of the bed. But when he sees who it is, he instantly calms down; watching him through the misted glass is the ghostly face of Dean.

"What are you doing here?" He hisses as he lifts the window up.

Dean smiles sheepishly, presenting him with a bouquet of dark red roses that matches the colour of his freckled cheeks. "Peace offering?"

"You bought me flowers?"

"I bought you roses," Dean corrects him jokingly.

Castiel folds his arms over his chest. "That's the sign of a guilty man."

"Or the sign of an asshole."

His shoulders sag. "Get in here before you freeze to death."

Dean ever-so-elegantly flops over the side of the window, landing on the floor with a crash. The flowers miss being crushed by half an inch. Castiel can't help but smile at the sight of his boyfriend sprawled out on the floor, still clutching onto his bouquet of slightly disarrayed roses. It doesn't even startle him that he just referred to Dean as his 'boyfriend' in his head; it's like nothing has changed.

"Okay, so… I wanna apologise for bein' a dick," Dean gets to his feet and sighs. "I made it all about me, and that was a crappy thing to do."

Castiel shakes his head. "No, Dean. This is my fault. I can't blame you for wanting a normal relationship."

"I don't want a 'normal relationship' if it's not with you, Cas."

"Are you trying to butter me up?"

Dean grins. "Is it workin'?"

"Maybe. Here, hand me those flowers and we'll see."

He doesn't even think about the blood on his hands before he reaches forward, but by the time he realizes, it's too late. Dean has already snatched his wrist and is inspecting his nails with equal amounts of concern and something close to anger.

"Cas, what… what did you do?"

Castiel yanks his hand back, stuffing it into the pocket of his hoodie. "It was an accident."

"What the hell kind of accident gets your hands covered in blood?"

"I was washing the dishes and I caught it on the cheese grater. Seriously, Dean. It's not a big deal."

Dean's mouth thins into a line. "Lemme see your other hand."

"Dean -"

"Your other hand, Cas."

Castiel reluctantly offers his left hand, palm facing up, but Dean isn't stupid. He turns it over in his own hands, picking at the dried blood beneath his nails. His fingers brush over the crescent-shaped scars dug into his palms. Castiel wishes the ground would swallow him up.

"Cas, baby… Why did you do this to yourself?"

Castiel swallows thickly. "I told you. It was an accident."

"Please, Cas. Just talk to me, man."

"Nothing happened, Dean."

He hates lying to him, especially when they both know the truth, but he just can't talk about this right now. He can't talk about how big a failure he is, or how his uncle is visiting next week, or how Mary definitely knows about the two of them. He thought he lost Dean; he thought he was gone for good. But he was wrong. He came back. He'll probably leave again sometime, but for now, he's here with him. He doesn't want to spoil that with talking.

"I don't really understand the custom of giving people flowers," He shrugs, burying his nose in the roses. "But they smell nice. Thank you, Dean."

"Cas, we need -"

"Can we just sleep, please? I… I just want to hold you."

Dean's jaw tightens, like he's trying desperately to hold back another fit of questions, but thankfully, he doesn't persist. "I'm sorry, Cas. I'm sorry I wasn't here for you."

"Let's not talk about that. Just come to bed."

He takes Dean's hand and gently leads him to the bed, tucking the covers around them both. It's weird, being the 'big spoon' for once, but he likes the feel of Dean's strong back pressing against his chest. He likes being able to wrap his arms around him, even if his head kind of lies awkwardly between the jut of his shoulder blades.

"Thank you for coming back."

Dean's breathing stutters for a moment. "I feel like crap. Really, Cas. I'm so -"

"Let's leave that for the morning," He murmurs against the nape of Dean's neck. "I just want to fall asleep with you right now. Is that okay?"

It's not okay - they both know that - but Dean nods all the same.

Castiel tightens his grip around Dean's waist, losing himself to the steady rhythm of his chest rising and falling against his arms. He doesn't sleep much. His mind is working on overdrive. He just keeps staring at the back of Dean's head, endlessly trying to count the strands of golden brown hair - like counting sheep.

It's only when Dean's breathing has evened out, and the stillness of the night has fallen around them, that Castiel reaches over Dean's sleeping body and grabs his phone. It's pure luck that he doesn't have a password. It takes him only a few seconds to find his unopened voicemail and delete it, completely erasing those two minutes of weakness from memory. He doesn't want Dean to hear that side of him; he doesn't want Dean to know the real him.


	12. Chapter 12

**This chapter is mainly very fluffy, with just a touch of angst. I hope you enjoy! As always, please leave a review if you can. Your support means a lot. Thank you**

* * *

Castiel wakes to the smell of coffee. Pale morning light spills through the open window, blinking his eyes open, and cool air brushes his skin. It's the middle of November, and he left the window open. God, he's an idiot.

He's still wearing his jeans and hoodie, he realizes. The horrible taste in his mouth tells him he forgot to brush his teeth last night as well. There's that sickly feeling in his stomach, the lump of dread in his throat preparing him for the day ahead. A lot of bad stuff happened yesterday; he remembers his conversation with Lucifer, and then with Bobby. He remembers how his uncle is coming to visit next week, and how him and Dean are maybe (probably) still in a fight, even after spending the night together like nothing was wrong. And then the tell-tale sting in the palms of his hands as he lifts his arms above his head in a stretch reminds him of how low he stooped, and how close he was to falling off the edge again.

The cuts still look fresh, almost as if they happened just yesterday. Dried blood is crusted around the eight crescent-shaped gashes where his nails kept digging in, deeper and deeper. He checks himself over. There's blood on his jeans; he must have caught the scabs on the rough material in the middle of the night.

He's picking at the cuts when the door opens, followed by Dean stepping inside with two mugs of steaming coffee. He's still fully-clothed as well.

"Dang it, Cas," Dean hisses, placing the mugs on the bedside table. "Stop pickin'."

Castiel eyes the coffee. "Where did you get that?"

"From this magical land called the _kitchen_."

"Did anyone see you?"

"Seriously, Cas?" Dean rolls his eyes and shoves a mug into his hands. "Just drink the damn coffee, will ya?"

Castiel takes a small sip. The coffee is hot and bitter, but it washes the foul stickiness out of his mouth and makes his body tingle. Dean is watching him sadly. He knows they have to have a talk, or maybe even _the_ talk… You know, the one they both knew they'd have to have at some point in their relationship. He just wishes they had more time.

"Cas," Dean grips his forearm gently. "Talk to me, man."

Castiel likes that about Dean; he can kiss him and call him 'baby', but he can also just touch his arm and call him 'man', or 'buddy', or simply 'Cas'. He likes that they can be boyfriends at times, and best friends at others.

"You're still angry," Castiel says without looking Dean in the eye.

Dean sighs. "I'm not _angry_ , Cas, I just…"

"You want to be with someone in the open. You don't want to hide anymore."

"No, Cas. I wanna be with _you_ , okay? I told you that."

"But things would be easier if I were… Well, if I weren't me."

Dean puts his coffee aside and takes his hands. "If you weren't you, Cas, then why the hell would I even bother?"

"Why do you like me?"

"Seriously?"

"Yes, Dean, _seriously_. I just can't understand it!"

There's a softness to Dean's expression, but his eyes are hardened with something… maybe fear? But why would he be scared right now? Maybe this is the part where he tells him that liking someone isn't enough, and they should probably break up. Castiel can picture the moment so clearly in his mind - Dean telling him he's sorry, Dean giving him one last kiss, Dean walking out of the door forever. It makes him wants to lean over the side of the bed and throw up. It was always going to end this way. He should be more ready, but he's just not.

"It's not that simple, Cas. I can't just tell you _why_ , ya know?" Dean rolls his eyes to the ceiling and takes a breath. "But it scares me."

"What scares you?"

"This," Dean meets his eyes again, smiling crookedly. " _You_. I mean… Where d'you _come_ from? I wasn't supposed to… This kinda stuff is meant to happen later on, where you're old and fat and you've gotten everything outta your system!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Dean. _What's_ supposed to happen later on?"

Dean stares at him for a moment, then closes his eyes. When he opens them again, the fear is gone, but his lips are pursed in a frown.

"I think my mom knows."

Castiel releases a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Yes, she… she was asking me questions at our last session."

"What? Cas, why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you hung up."

He expects Dean to defend himself, to be _angry_. But instead, he tightens his grip on his hands and presses a kiss against his forehead. Castiel leans into the touch instinctively, his body actually _aching_ for Dean. He just wishes they could forget the past week ever happened, go back to being a gross teenage couple who kiss in dark cupboards and sneak into each other's rooms. Well, Castiel has never been in Dean's room, but you get the point. He wants to forget ever arguing with Dean; it just feels wrong.

"I'm so fuckin' sorry, Cas. You've gotta believe me… I wanted to punch myself in the balls as soon as I did it."

Castiel huffs a laugh. "There's no point in harming yourself, Dean. I forgive you."

"You do?"

"I understand why you did it. But, Dean... I _do_ want to be with you. Please, just trust me on that. I want nothing more," His fingers curl around the back of Dean's neck. "And if things were different, of course I'd want to tell people! _More_ people."

"Well, I guess we don't have much of a choice now."

Castiel sighs. "I guess not. Do you think your mom will tell Bobby?"

"I mean, it's her job. Probably, yeah."

"So… it's over then?"

Dean leans back, cupping his face with large, gentle hands. Castiel could fall asleep like this, completely lost in Dean's touch.

"I'm not gonna let that happen, Cas," He whispers. "They'll have to drag me away."

"And if they do?"

"Then I'll come back for you."

Castiel smiles. "Or you could find someone else, be happy."

"Not without you."

Castiel covers Dean's hands with his own, threading their fingers together. He never thought that holding someone's hand could feel so good, but he's kind of addicted to it. Dean's skin is rough and warm, his fingers thick and strong as they squeeze around him.

"Cas, you're trembling."

"I'm fine."

"Here," Dean grabs a wet cloth from the bathroom and sits back down. "Lemme clean that off for you."

As Dean carefully washes the dark flakes of blood from his fingers, Castiel can't help but think about that time Dean fell out of his window, and he had to clean the cut on his arm. Things seemed simpler back then, when all they had to worry about was sneaking Dean in and out without Bobby seeing. It was almost like a game. He misses that.

"You did this, didn't you?" Dean says, so quietly Castiel almost doesn't hear him. "It wasn't an accident, was it?"

Castiel swallows. Dean isn't stupid; the cuts on his hands are obviously from nails. He could still call it an accident, brush it off as a 'heat of the moment' thing, but Dean already knows. Maybe's he's known it for a while. There's obviously something wrong with him if he's in here, and it's not just his awful social skills. There's something _broken_ in him, something that can't be fixed with a hug or a pat on the back. And now the only person who could possibly help him - who could maybe piece him back together - is going to be taken away from him.

"Can we please just… I'm not ready yet, I can't -"

"You'll tell me you're ready," Dean kisses his knuckles. "I'm not gonna push you."

Castiel smiles sadly. "I just wish we could have went on a real date, without being interrupted. A nice, _normal_ date."

"Who says we can't?"

"Dean, it's over. You know as well as I do."

"It ain't over til the fat lady sings."

Castiel frowns. "What do singing fat ladies have to do with this?"

"We're gonna have that date," Dean suddenly springs to his feet, grabbing Castiel's roses off the floor and handing them back to him. "We've done dinner 'n a movie, slow dancin', the classic make-out session in the cupboard… There's just one last thing to do."

There's something dangerous about the twinkle in Dean's eyes, but Castiel can't help but grin as he stands up. "And what's that?"

"S'all part of the surprise, Cas," Dean sticks his leg through the open window and waggles his eyebrows. "But first, we're gonna need to make a pit stop."

* * *

Castiel can't believe he's doing this. He's never been a rebellious child; sure, he doesn't always agree with his uncle (in fact, he rarely does), but he's never been disobedient. Well, unless you count having no control over your sexuality, and thus being a complete disgrace to all of Christianity, as being _disobedient_ … But on the whole, he's a good kid - the kind of kid that keeps his head down, does what he's told, and dutifully keeps to the side-lines. He's definitely _not_ the sort of person who sneaks out on secret dates with his not-so-secret boyfriend.

And yet, _here he is_ , waiting for Dean outside of some random store a good distance away from Opal Grove. It's freezing out, his hands clasped together inside the front pocket of his jumper. He doesn't know how long he's been standing here, but he's pretty sure his nose is fairly close to snapping clean off.

The sky is pale blue, verging on white, and the ground is cold and dry. It's a beautiful day. He wonders if there'll be any snow this Christmas; he and Anna haven't had a white Christmas in years. Maybe if it snows, she could come visit? They could have a snowball fight with Charlie and Gabe and - well, that's about it. With Kevin and Jo gone, and the secrecy of his and Dean's relationship hanging by a thread, this Christmas is shaping up to be a pretty lonely one indeed. Not that his Christmases have ever been anything extraordinary. It still would have been nice to spend it with his friends and all the people he cares about though.

Before he has time to dwell on that rather depressing thought, Dean comes crashing through the shop doors with a basket under his arm. It's one of those woven, picnic things, with the tartan cloth on the inside.

"You ready for this?" Dean asks with a grin.

"Remind me why I couldn't come inside with you again?"

"Because, Cas! It's a _surprise_."

Castiel rolls his eyes fondly. "Oh, whatever could it be? Surely that _picnic_ basket in your hand couldn't be any sort of clue, could it?"

"Ah, shaddup," Dean pulls him forward by his waist and kisses his nose. "You may _think_ you know it all, but you're gonna be pleasantly surprised."

"I guess we'll see."

Dean slings his arm around his shoulders and turns them in the opposite direction. "We sure will. Now, c'mon… we're gonna be late."

"For what?"

"Are you allergic to surprises or something?"

"That's not physically possible."

Dean chuckles. "Just follow my lead."

They speed-walk a couple of blocks (well, _Dean_ speed-walks; Castiel kind of just drags behind without a clue) to catch a bus that looks like it's seen better days. Dean doesn't tell him or the driver where they're going, just shoves a handful of quarters into the guy's hand and takes them to the very back. Castiel learns that Dean _hates_ buses. The smell, the interior, the noise - _everything_ about them. He starts gushing about his car (AKA 'his other baby') and how he would never let her get into such a state. All Castiel can do is hum his agreement and nod along as his boyfriend goes off on a lengthy (and strangely adorable) rant. He's only half-listening though; he's more interested in the forest green of Dean's eyes, and the slope of his nose, and the dimples in his cheeks when he smiles… _Dear Lord_ , he's got it bad.

"Here we go," Dean grabs his hand when the bus comes to a stop by some friendly-looking bakery in the middle of nowhere. "This is us."

Castiel thanks the driver with a smile, and follows Dean off. He's immediately hit with the heavy scent of flowers. Opposite the road, beyond a thick, fenced-off hedge, is a park. Even this late into the year, the grass is a vibrant shade that nearly - _just nearly_ \- matches the colour of Dean's eyes. All around him are people - families, dog walkers, couples, and solo shoppers lugging dozens of bags behind them. It's a stark contrast to the white-washed walls and grey-smudged streets surrounding Opal Grove.

"Where are we?" He asks Dean, a little breathlessly.

Dean folds his arms and grins. "S'awesome, right? Mom used to take me and Sammy here when we were little. It's like, the _perfect_ town."

"But, why did you bring me here?"

"Because," Dean squeezes his hand, as if to remind him that they're actually _holding hands_ in public. "No one knows us here. And the best part? They don't even care! This place is like a miniature New York; you can be whoever the hell you wanna be without turnin' any heads."

Laughter bubbles in Castiel's chest. "That sounds like a fairy tale."

"Maybe it is. So what? Still means I can do _this_ ," Dean presses a gentle kiss against his mouth. "And not worry who's lookin'."

"It's like we're invisible?"

"Exactly," The smile on Dean's face is intoxicating. "So, Cas. If you could be invisible for one day, what would you do?"

Now _that's_ a question.

His whole life, Castiel's been consumed by the fear of people watching him - _judging_ him. He's always known he's a little different; when all the other boys in school were busy trying to flirt with the girls, he was harbouring an embarrassing crush on Mr. Ketes, his 8th grade math teacher. And in church, when he was supposed to be paying attention to the words of the almighty Lord, he was mentally chastising himself for having sinful thoughts, and desperately searching for a way in his mind to make God love him again. Almost every moment of his life before coming to Opal Grove has felt like living under a microscope. He's never had any privacy, never had the luxury of being himself without constantly worrying about the consequences. What do normal people _do_ when they're not stressing over playing a particular part in some elaborate play? Everything else just seems so… _simple_.

"I guess," He shrugs one shoulder, wiping a sweaty palm against his jeans. "I'd walk all day. I wouldn't stop until the sun finally set. Then I'd walk back the way I came, just to see how different everything is in the dark."

Dean stoops to pick up his basket and smiles. "Sounds like one helluva plan, Cas. D'you mind a plus one?"

"Well, I suppose I could make an exception for you…"

"Oh, because I'm devilishly handsome?"

Castiel pretends to consider this for a moment. "Actually, I was thinking more because you're my only way of getting back… But if you want to flatter yourself, go right ahead."

"Whoever taught you sarcasm had no idea what they were doin'," Dean shakes his head, chuckling. "Good thing I find it kinda hot."

Castiel wills down the blush in his cheeks. "So, where do we start?"

"We should probably find some grub first."

"Are you ever _not_ hungry?"

"Not hungry?" Dean wrinkles his nose. "Never heard of it. C'mon! I know a great place…"

'A great place' turns out to be a food stand in the middle of the park. There's an older man with thinning, silver hair selling hot dogs, burgers and the like, all the while smiling a gap-toothed smile that promises friendliness and warmth.

"Hey," Dean leads him up to the stand and slaps a ten dollar bill in front of the smiling man. "Can I have a couple of burgers and a giant pretzel? Oh! And some cotton candy, as well."

Castiel watches in awe as the man hands him what _looks_ like a pink cloud on a stick. He has no idea what it's supposed to be - is it even edible? - but the childish excitement on Dean's face is enough to make him grin just as widely. The next thing he gives him is something light brown, shaped almost like a love heart, and covered in salt. Castiel's seen pretzels on a much _smaller_ scale before, but this is a monster compared to those. And of course, there are the burgers - easily the size of Castiel's skull - carrying with them a scent so heavenly, Castiel is close to dropping to his knees in prayer. Only, that's probably not the _best_ thing to do in front of Dean, considering… Well, he's not going to spell it out for you.

"Thanks, man. Keep the change!" Dean hands him a burger as they head down the path. "Here, Cas. You've gotta try this."

Castiel takes the burger with a sigh. It really does smell amazing. "I'm going to pay you back."

"Huh?"

"For the food," He clarifies. "And the bus. I'll pay you back."

Dean rolls his eyes. "We're on a _date_ , you idiot. Why the hell d'you think you'd have to pay? S'my treat!"

"I feel like you're always the one looking after _me_."

"That's a bunch of crap. Remember when Jo left? You were awesome then."

"That was nothing."

"Well, it meant a lot me," Dean shrugs. "Ya know… the fact that you were there and everything. You didn't have to be, but you were."

"Of course I had to be! What kind of boyfriend - what kind of _friend_ \- would I be if I hadn't?"

Dean smirks around a mouthful of burger. "Exactly, Cas. What kind of boyfriend would _I_ be if I didn't spoil you now and again?"

"That… That's different. I don't need you spending all your money -"

"A bus ticket and lunch?" Dean raises an eyebrow. "I'm sure my bank balance will survive, Cas."

"You know what I mean…"

Dean touches his shoulder, making him stop. "Hey. I wanna do this, alright? I _want_ to spoil you. Why shouldn't I?"

"Is this about Mary finding out?"

"She's not gonna split us up, Cas. Don't worry about it."

"But you want to take me on this date - go for a walk and buy me food and pretend we're invisible - _just in case_?"

Dean's throat ripples, then he plasters on a smile and keeps on moving. "These burgers are awesome though, right? What did I tell ya?"

"You're worried."

"Look, Cas," Dean circles his wrist with gentle fingers, his expression crumpling slightly. "I don't know what's gonna happen tomorrow. I don't have a frickin' _clue_ how this works! My mom could lose her _job_ \- I dunno! So, yeah. This might be our last chance to act like a normal couple for quite a while." A smile quirks his lips when he cups Castiel's face. His fingers smell like cotton candy, and his touch is warm despite the chill in the air. "Let's make it as cheesy as we can, yeah? Go the whole nine yards."

Castiel frowns. "How do we do that?"

"It's simple. You've just gotta be as gross as you can," His eyes drift to where his fingers are still touching Castiel's wrist. "I think we're doin' okay so far."

Castiel narrows his eyes. "I thought you didn't like 'chick-flick' moments?"

"It's a grey area."

"I think you secretly love them."

"And _I_ think the burger fumes are gettin' to your head."

Castiel smiles and takes his first bite. He can definitely see where Dean is coming from; this tastes amazing. He tries to refrain from moaning (like last time), but it's just too good not to lick his fingers once he's finished (even if Dean's hooded gaze as he slowly sucks them clean is making his jeans a little more uncomfortable than before).

"You want some cotton candy?" Dean asks once he's snapped out of his trance.

"I'm not sure…"

"Oh, c'mon! It's great!"

"It doesn't look very appetizing, I must admit."

Dean laughs. "Quit bein' a food snob and have a try! I promise you: you'll love it."

Castiel hesitates for a moment, then tears a small piece off. It breaks away like fluff, little spider webs of cotton candy clinging on for dear life. It feels strange in his hands, almost like holding nothing but air. Castiel feels like an animal in a zoo as he pops it into his mouth, what with Dean watching him expectantly, smile frozen in place and eyes bright. He doesn't know how to respond; as soon as the cotton candy touches his tongue, it melts away, leaving nothing but a sweet, sugary taste lingering in his mouth.

"Hm," He smacks his lips in thought. "That was… interesting."

Dean takes a generous bite of cotton candy and grins. "S'like eatin' a sugary cloud, right? It's amazing!"

"That's one word for it."

"Okay, so you didn't like it… More for me, I guess."

"I didn't _not_ like it," Castiel takes another small piece and rubs it between his fingers. "I just find it… _unsettling_. Food shouldn't disappear in your mouth like that."

"Ah, Cas," Dean swings their hands between their hips and laughs. "Only you could call cotton candy unsettlin', and still look so serious."

Castiel humphs. "I don't look serious."

"Oh, c'mon! You've got a permanent scowl. D'you not know that?"

"No," Castiel touches his mouth self-consciously. "I smile. Sometimes…"

"Hey, I'm not complain'," Dean licks his lips and smirks. "It means you've got permanent bedroom eyes as well."

A fierce blush instantly burns his face, to which Dean just laughs and pokes his cheeks. If he weren't so annoyingly adorable, Castiel would smite him here and now. He's never been a blusher - not even when that shopkeeper caught him staring at the gay porn on the top shelf, or some ass-butt tripped him up on his first day of Middle School - but all Dean has to do to make him turn into a living tomato is smile or wink or say something mildly suggestive. It's like he's reduced to an eight year old with a crush whenever he's around him.

"Yes, well," He clears his throat. "What's next?"

Dean rubs his chin and hums, eyes cast up to the sky as if in deep thought. What comes out of his mouth next, Castiel is _not_ expecting.

"D'you wanna have kids?"

" _What_?!" Castiel chokes on nothing.

The look on Dean's face is caught between triumphant and highly amused. "I'd love kids. Maybe only a couple though… I mean, I'd be an _awesome_ dad, right? My kids would have the best taste in music. _And_ food. I'd raise them like warriors, ya know? None of that rabbit food crap. And, of course, they'd all respect my baby. No child of mine is drivin' around in some crappy _Toyota_ , okay? And they'd have _manners._ But I don't want them callin' me _sir_ or anything. They could call me dad, and you pa? Or papa? It's up to you, I guess."

Castiel chokes again. " _What_?!"

Dean stares at him for a few seconds, then bursts into laughter. His head tilts back, and his eyes squeeze closed, and _God_ , he looks beautiful…

"I'm just kiddin'," Dean wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. "Aw, man… the look on your face. You were about ready to run for the hills, weren't ya?"

Castiel wants to laugh as well, to brush the joke aside and carry on like nothing happened, but instead, he says: "No," And then his cheeks are burning again, but he doesn't care, because he needs to say this, to get it off his chest. "I think I… I'd like that. To have children and live a normal life," He swallows thickly, forcing himself not to look away. "I'd like to have that with you, Dean. That sounds nice."

For a moment, Dean looks dumbstruck. Castiel is so close to taking it back and pretending that _he_ was joking too, but then the corner of Dean's mouth lifts in a crooked smile, and his hand squeezes Castiel's gently.

"We could have one of those detached houses with the front porch 'n square gardens. Ya know, like the soccer moms live in."

Castiel grins. "I want to paint it yellow. _Lemon_ yellow."

"Anything you want, Cas," Dean carries on walking, steering them through the gardens and up a slow-rising hill. "And we could have a dog - one of those german shepherds."

"And a cat."

"I'm kind of _allergic_ , so…"

"Okay. A guinea pig, then. And a goldfish in a round bowl. We could call it something terrible, like _Flippers_ or _Bubbles_."

Dean snorts. "You're not namin' our kids, Cas."

"Oh, no. Our children would have better names than Flippers and Bubbles, don't worry."

"A girl 'n a boy," Dean says with a nod. "Yeah. They'd fight like cat 'n dog, but they'd love each other really."

"And we'd let them be whatever they want to be - gay, straight, bisexual, _whatever_ … It doesn't matter, because we'll love them no matter what," Castiel smiles shyly at Dean. "They'll be our children."

Dean returns the smile, his eyes shining as he presses a kiss against his forehead. "Yeah. That sounds good."

By the time they've reached the top of the hill, it's getting late. Castiel can't believe they've been walking around for over six hours, just holding hands and talking. Being invisible is kind of amazing. It's verging on five o'clock, and in the late season, the sun has almost set. Castiel can see the streetlights in the distance flickering to life, creating starbursts of colour against the velvet sky ahead. The hill is surprisingly high. They're the only ones around, and the view stretches all over the small town below.

"Wow," Castiel breathes.

Dean drops the basket onto the ground and sighs. "What a view, right?"

"It's incredible."

"Well, soak it all in, Cas… 'cause this is the final thing on the list."

Castiel tilts his head to the side. "What is it?"

Dean smirks, and then, with a dramatic flick of his wrists, he draws a blanket out of the basket and lays it on the damp grass. It's huge - big enough for them both to fit on - and the material reminds him of the shirts Dean is always wearing.

"A… blanket?"

"C'mon," Dean sits down and pats the empty space beside him. "You're really gonna love this part."

"Oh, like I loved the cotton candy?" He says with a pointed look, but sits down next to Dean all the same. "Should I already know what's coming?"

"Probably. But the surprise makes it even better."

A shudder suddenly runs down his spine. Castiel hugs his arms as a wind whistles by. His jumper just isn't thick enough, and he's starting to wish he brought his coat with him. Only, it's _not_ his coat - not really - and that's what makes wearing it so difficult. He doesn't have to worry for long though, because Dean is wrapping his own arms around them both, pulling Castiel in closer, and rubbing warmth into his trembling body.

"Thank you," He whispers.

Castiel can feel Dean's smile lifting against his cheek. "You ready for the ultimate cheese fest?"

"I suppose so…"

Dean turns his head so his lips are tickling the shell of Castiel's ear. "Look up."

And when he does, the sky is full of stars.

* * *

It's the middle of November, and he's lying on a cold hill at nearly seven o'clock in the evening with nothing but a blanket separating him from the soggy grass beneath, but he's never felt so warm. He's been lying here, staring up at the stars with Dean, for almost two hours. They haven't talked for the most part, simply held hands and pointed out constellations they recognise now and again. It's strange how you can feel so close to someone without actually saying a word. He doesn't feel obligated to fill in the awkward silence; the silence doesn't even _feel_ awkward to begin with! It's like just _being_ here with each other is enough. They don't need words to let the other one know how they're feeling. They _already_ know.

"Looking at the stars," Castiel says in a whisper. "It's all so big… It really puts things into perspective."

Dean's grip tightens on his hand. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. It makes you realize how small we are in comparison, how short life is."

"Damn, Cas," Dean chuckles, but there's no humour in it. "Way to bring down the mood."

Castiel turns to face him. "Sorry, I just… Everything seems so silly. We're worrying about everyone's reactions, and what they're going to do. But does it even matter? I'm going to be eighteen soon, and then they can't control me. We can be together."

"You've changed your tune," Dean says, smiling softly. "What happened to Cas the pessimist?"

"I wasn't being pessimistic; I was being _realistic_."

"Well, you should try thinkin' more about the opportunities, ya know?" Dean grins, then presses their foreheads together. "Just keep thinkin' about that yellow house."

"Don't forget Bubbles."

Dean laughs. "How could I forget?"

Castiel studies Dean's face for a moment. It's dark, but he can still see the soft curve of his smile, and the freckles dusting his nose. "Do you really think it's going to happen? For both of us, I mean. Even if we're not together. Do you think we could live like that?"

"I know we can," Dean looks back up at the stars and nods. "And we're gonna be together."

"You really believe that?"

"I believe in what I want, and that's what I want."

Castiel's heart flutters. Dean _wants_ that future? _With him_? Dean, who is so effortlessly gorgeous and charming and near _perfect_. Dean, who could have his pick of the whole country - boys and girls alike. Dean, who Castiel could never truly deserve… He wants a house and kids and pets with stupid names, and he wants it all with _him_? How did this happen? When did Castiel's life turn into this fairy tale where he has friends who would do anything for him, and a decent roof over his head, and a boy who actually makes him feel wanted? This time four months ago, he was being hosed down in the back yard by his uncle, the blood from his recent beatings washing down the grass in an ugly, orange stream. And now he has all this.

"My uncle's coming to visit next week," He's not sure why the words came out in the first place, but there they are - out in the open.

Dean turns to him slowly. His expression is neutral, but Castiel can see he's struggling. He doesn't know about Zachariah, or what he's done to him, but he knows how jittery Castiel gets when his uncle is brought up in conversation. He's seen the cuts on this hands, what he's capable of doing to himself. He knows how hard this is going to be.

"I'll be there."

"No," Castiel has to stop himself from shouting the word. If Zachariah saw him and Dean together, he'd figure it out immediately. He _can't_ let that happen; not just for his sake, but for Anna's too. "No, Dean. I'll be fine."

"You're clearly not fine, Cas."

"He's just a man. I can face him, I promise."

Dean fidgets a little. "Well… as soon as it's over, I'm gonna come see you, alright?"

"Alright," Castiel smiles, but they both know that the chances of Dean still being able to see him after today are pretty slim.

Dean squeezes his hand, then points out a particularly bright star above one of the buildings ahead. Castiel just watches, completely mesmerised, as he goes off on another tangent, something about a camping trip their family took a few years ago, and how he and Sam made up loads of names and stories for the stars. Castiel loves the way he talks about his brother. His face gets all animated, and his hands do most of the talking. There's this twinkle in his eyes, too. He wonders if that's how he looks when he's talking about Anna. He tries to imagine being a part of Dean's family, where everyone cares deeply for each other, no matter who you like, or what you are. He imagines going over to the Winchesters' house for dinner, and Dean introducing him to all of his family. He imagines Anna and Sam becoming friends. He imagines, in sixty years, sitting on the porch outside of their lemon yellow house with Dean, their german shepherd by their feet, watching the stars just like they are now.

"And then Sam's marshmallow caught fire. God, it was hilarious. He was freakin' out so much, the little bitch… I mean, how are we related? Me bein' so handsome and fearless, and him bein' scared of frickin' _marshmallows_. It just doesn't add up, ya know? So then I…"

Castiel rests his cheek on his hand and lets himself relax, watching Dean continue his story, but only half-listening. He's just so beautiful. _Less than two months_ , that's all it took. _Less than two months_ for him to fall hopelessly in love with this idiot, and now he can't stop staring at his face, and planning out their hypothetical future in his head. If he knew it would feel this good, he would've stopped resisting it a long time ago.

Dean's delving into the details of hiding a mouse in Sam's tent when his phone chimes with a new message. It's from Charlie, and that can only mean one thing. With a shuddered breath (and Dean's eyes watching him carefully), he fishes his phone out of his pocket.

 **Dude! Where the hell r u? Bobby n Mary r going NUTS over here! I think they called Deans dad. WHATS GOING ON? DO THEY KNOW? TEXT ME BACCCCKKK!**

Castiel puts it away with a groan.

"What's goin' on?" Dean sits up, eyes wide. "Cas? Talk to me, man."

He's not sure what comes over him, but one minute he's looking at Dean, and then he's sitting in his lap and attacking his face with his lips. Maybe it's something to do with the dark, but he's certainly not as shy as he was the other week. He wants Dean to touch him, to feel his hands trailing up his body and exploring every inch of him. He wants to grind himself against Dean until they're both painfully hard and overcome with desire. He wants to forget everything else going on his life, and just surround himself with Dean. _Dean, Dean. Dean…_

"Cas," Dean gasps, breaking free from the kiss. "What're you doin'? Who texted you? What -"

Castiel swallows his words with another kiss, this one completely uncoordinated and _reeking_ desperation. He tugs Dean closer, holding his face between his hands as he peppers his cheeks with more and more kisses. He can't stop. He just _can't_ stop.

"No, Cas," Dean turns his face away and grabs Castiel's hands. "Cas, _stop_. You've gotta stop and tell me what's goin' on!"

Castiel can't breathe. His chest is tight, and his face is hot, and _he can't breathe._ He sucks in as much as air as he can, but it's like his throat is full of sand. Every breath is shallow and rattles his chest. He reaches out for the closet thing he can find - _Dean_ \- and holds onto it. He burrows his face into Dean's neck, wrapping his arms around his body, and tries to ground himself with the familiar scent of leather and smoke and cotton candy. There's something wet on his cheeks, so he's probably crying, but he just doesn't care right now. All that matters is the darkness surrounding him, and the feel of Dean's hands rubbing soothing circles into his back.

"Hey, hey, hey," Dean murmurs softly. "S'okay, Cas. I've got you, baby. I've got you…"

A sob racks Castiel's body. "They're looking for us, Dean. They're waiting back at the house. They're going to take you away from me. They are, I _know_ they are!"

"No. No, that's not gonna happen," Dean leans back, cupping Castiel's face. His eyes are hard, but his voice is gentle. "You listen to me right now, okay? That is _not_ gonna happen."

"What if is this is our last time together?"

Dean shakes his head. "Remember what you said before? You're gonna be eighteen soon, and then none of this'll even matter!"

"But what about Zachariah. I-I can't do it, Dean. I need… I just… I can't do it by myself! I'm not as strong as they think I am. I can't do this any longer, keep a straight face and pretend that everything is fine! _I'm not fine_ , Dean! I'm not… I'm not…"

"Shh, Cas. I've got you. I'm not gonna let them take you away," Dean kisses the top of his head, brushing a lock of damp hair out of his face. "And I'm not goin' anywhere either."

Castiel closes his eyes, letting Dean's words run through his mind over and over again. _He's not going to leave him. They won't be apart. He'll never be alone again. It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay…_

"Cas. Cas, look at me," He opens his eyes, and Dean is watching him closely. "We've gotta go back. Before they call the police or something."

"I'm sorry," He says in a rush. "I overreacted then. That was silly of me… Can - Can we please just pretend that never happened?"

Dean strokes the pad of his thumb across his cheek. "I get it, Cas."

"I'm not usually like that."

"It doesn't matter," Dean slides his hands down to his arms and lifts them both to their feet. "If you wanna go a little crazy on me now 'n again, just go right ahead. I'm not gonna stop ya."

Castiel splutters a laugh. "You don't mind crazy?"

"You never seen Angelina Jolie in 'Girl Interrupted'? Crazy can be pretty hot, lemme tell ya."

"Dean, _you're_ the bisexual. I'm just gay."

"Oh, right," Dean chuckles as they head back down the hill. "You're probably more into _Heath Ledger_ kinda crazy then, huh?"

"I have no idea who that is."

Dean shoots him a look of disappointment. "You've never seen 'The Dark Night'? Aw, c'mon, Cas! You're killin' me here!"

"My sincerest apologies."

"You bein' sarcastic with me again?"

Castiel smirks. "Maybe you're just being paranoid."

"Yeah, right."

Dean drapes his arm over Castiel's shoulder, and they walk back the way they came. It looks much different in the dark; the streets are quiet, and the path seems to stretch on forever… If only that were true. Then this moment would never have to end.

* * *

If Castiel still had parents, he imagines _this_ is what it would feel like to come home after sneaking out, and finding them waiting up for you on the couch. Bobby is at the door in a flash as he and Dean walk up the steps. His expression is torn between angry and relieved, but all he does is step aside and let them in without saying a word. Mary is standing in the foyer, arms crossed and mouth a thin line. Standing next to her is a very large man with dark hair and dark eyes and - well, dark _everything_. Castiel is instantly wary of him.

"Holy crap, Cassy!" Gabe suddenly appears from behind them. "I have major respect for you, kiddo."

Charlie is lingering in the background as well, but she looks more worried than proud.

"Get back to yer rooms," Bobby says without turning around.

Gabe and Charlie exchange a look before giving him a thumbs up, and then disappearing back down the hall. Castiel already misses them.

"Dean Winchester," The large man (presumably Dean's dad) says in a booming voice. "Where in God's name have you been -"

"John," Mary touches his chest, and he immediately calms. "Let me handle this, okay?"

Castiel flits his gaze between them both. It's odd, seeing such a small woman controlling such a large man with one touch. But maybe that's what love is about - losing yourself to that other person, doing everything within your power to make them happy. Even though they're both wearing matching frowns, Castiel can tell that Dean's parents love each other.

"Dean. Castiel. Where have you been?" Her eyes land on their joined hands, then instantly snap back up to their faces.

Dean gives him a side-glance. His expression is seeking permission, just like when they kissed for the first time. "We were stargazing," He then says, without a hint of fear. Castiel envies his strength right now.

Mary looks genuinely taken aback. So does Dean's father, in fact. They both share a look of surprise, and then the masks of disapproval slip back on again. Even Bobby, who's lurking in the corner, has his eyebrows raised - and he _knew_ about them the whole time!

"You… were _stargazing_?"

"Yeah," Dean says, an edge of impatience to his voice. "So frickin' _what_ , mom?!"

Mary purses her lips, but her eyes look sad. "Dean, you know why -"

"No, I don't!"

"It's not professional for you… for you and Cas to be… _friends_. He's my patient, Dean. It just wouldn't be right to -"

"Me and Dean aren't 'friends'," Castiel suddenly says, even surprising himself. All eyes are now on him, and the pressure instantly squeezes the truth out of him. "We're dating."

Mary's mouth drops open, and John lowers his head and starts massaging his temples. Bobby's mouth twitches in what Castiel could _swear_ is a smirk, but he quickly composes himself. When he looks back at Dean, he's wearing a crooked smile, and his cheeks are slightly flushed. Castiel wants to pull him in for a kiss, but that would probably be too much too soon.

"Castiel," Mary says, and the betrayal in her voice is enough to make him flinch. "I asked you in confidence if that was true. You told me you barely _knew_ Dean."

"Well, I lied," Castiel takes a deep breath, suddenly determined to come clean, to tell them everything there is to know. "Me and Dean have been dating for over a month. It started off fairly casual, but then… Well, now it's different. I was too scared to tell you, because I knew you wouldn't allow it. We've been sneaking around this whole time. It was my idea though. Dean wanted to tell you, but I was afraid. I'm _not_ afraid anymore. And I'm _certainly_ not ashamed. I'm dating this boy, and I don't care what you say. We want to be together, and we _will_ be. So if you want to kick me out, then fair enough. I'll go right now. But I am _not_ sacrificing Dean."

Once he's finished speaking, silence falls over the room. Mary, John and Bobby are all watching him with equal amounts of shock, and even Dean is stock-still beside him. But at least the truth is out there now. There'll be no more hiding and pretending. He can now look Mary in the eye without feeling sick with guilt. _It's finally over._

"Geez, kid," John breaks the silence with a laugh. "There's no need to make a song 'n dance about it. We already knew."

Castiel deflates, like all the air is being sucked out of him. "Yes, but… A-Aren't you angry?"

"You and Dean have been missing for hours," Mary says in a disapproving tone of voice. " _That's_ what we're angry about."

"But, you said it's unprofessional, that we can't -"

"If you're serious about this - both of you - then there are ways around that," Mary's face softens. "Castiel, I… I didn't know how much you cared about each other. I was worried that maybe this was just a fling that would leave you feeling more alone, but I realize now that I was wrong."

Castiel swallows. "What do you mean?"

"The things you just said about our son? Well, I'd be happy for him to date someone like you, someone who will treat him right."

Dean rolls his eyes, blushing darkly. "Shaddup, mom. You're gonna scare the poor guy off."

Mary eyes Castiel for a moment, then a smile touches her lips. "Something tells me that's not going to happen."

Castiel feels a weight being lifted from his shoulders, like stressing over a test for weeks, only to find out you passed. Mary gave them her approval; she thinks he's _worthy_ of Dean. She's not going to separate them! How did this happen? How did things turn out so well? He keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never does.

"So… So we're good?" Dean gives Castiel a hesitant smile, then turns back to his parents and Bobby. "We can actually do this?"

Mary sighs, but her expression is fond. "We need to have a little chat, run through a few things, but it should be okay. You won't be able to sneak out and spend the night together, but I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement."

Castiel doesn't even think to be embarrassed that Mary knew about them sharing the same bed; he's too giddy with excitement to care. All that matters is that he and Dean can still be together, with minimal drama and no more secrets. They can go on dates without having to worry who sees them. They can hold hands when Mary walks past in the hall. They can be _free_.

"Okay," Bobby says, scratching his chin. "Why don't we pick this up tomorrow?"

Mary nods. "Good idea. We can discuss all the details in the morning. Just come to your normal session, Castiel. We'll sort it out then."

Castiel looks at Dean, and Dean looks back at him. They don't have a clue what to say, but they're both smiling like idiots, so that's surely a good thing.

"Alright, boys," Mary smiles. "Say goodbye."

Dean takes a deep breath, then leans in to press a soft kiss against Castiel's mouth. It's ridiculous that they can do this in front of everyone now, without giving a damn! It's ridiculous, and also pretty amazing. When they break apart, Mary and Bobby are pointedly looking away, giving them some privacy. John just looks amused.

"Seya tomorrow," Dean whispers.

Castiel can't help but grin. "Yeah. I'll see you…"

And then Dean walks out of the door, but that's okay. Because at least he knows that he'll be coming back this time.


	13. Chapter 13

**Sorry for the filler chapter, guys! The next one will be all about Zachariah's visit... so they'll be a lot of angst ;) Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Please leave a review if you can; every piece of feedback means the absolute world to me. Thank you**

* * *

When the familiar sound of Bobby making breakfast filters through the walls - the distant clinking of pans, and the whirring of the blender - Castiel is already up and awake. He didn't get a wink of sleep last night; his mind refused to slow down. There's just too much going on at the moment, what with his and Dean's relationship now out in the open, and Zachariah's impending visit just around the corner. He's having a hard time keeping up with his emotions. Should he be relived about Dean, or wary about Mary's 'little chat'? Excited to see Anna, or terrified to see his uncle? It's like there's a tennis match going on inside his head, constantly flitting between the good and the bad. If only he could stop time and catch his bearings for a moment.

Outside, the sky is bright and fresh. The sun is a ball of white fire burning above the buildings ahead, shooting its rays across the blanket of morning blue. Castiel slides the window open and takes a breath, allowing the cool air to clear his head. He wants to be prepared for this meeting with Mary. If things were to go wrong at the last hurdle, he's not sure what he'd do. Probably give up, just like his mom did… But that's not the kind of person he wants to be. He wants to be stronger than that; he wants to make Dean _proud_.

"Castiel," Bobby's gruff voice whispers through the door. "C'mon, boy. Breakfast is on the table downstairs. I ain't yer damn butler."

Castiel huffs a laugh. "I'll be down in a minute."

His hands are shaking again, but at least his mind has stopped racing. Now isn't the time to worry about Zachariah; now is the time to focus on what's really important, and that's Dean. He can't mess this meeting up by being a nervous wreck.

With a shaky breath, he slips into something comfortable - a pair of faded jeans and a baggy sweater with a snowflake pattern stitched across the front. Christmas might still be a month away, but the jumper is warm and soft, so who cares? He read somewhere that feeling comfortable is a key step to feeling confident, and _confidence_ is a key step to success. Maybe he's overthinking this (he tends to do that), but what's the harm in giving it a go?

He runs a hand through his hair, further messing up the unruly locks, and steps out into the hallway. The smell of bacon and eggs is rich in the air, and _God_ is he hungry… Something about staying awake all night always leaves him starving in the morning. He's just relieved that his nausea surrounding the upcoming meeting with Mary hasn't ruined his appetite. There's nothing worse than being hungry and tired at the same time; it's like having all the energy drained from your body.

Breakfast passes in one of those horrible blurs where time seems to speed up, purely for the purpose of being cruel. He hardly remembers eating the scrambled eggs that Bobby made especially for him, or drinking his usual cup of morning coffee. But before he knows it, the clock has reached 9:30, and it's time for his session with Mary. He knows he shouldn't be worried; Mary said that things will be fine, after all. But it's not like him to be calm and casual, especially when the fate of his and Dean's relationship hangs in the balance. He's still getting used to the whole 'being in love' thing, but the fear of losing Dean is nothing new. It's always there, like a distant aching in the back of his mind. If he were to lose Dean, it would all be over; he'd break down again, he _knows_ he would. But he can't let that happen... He _won't_ let that happen.

Dean is leaning against the wall outside Mary's office, and Castiel has never been more happy to see him. He had this horrible feeling that maybe Dean wouldn't show up (as stupid and paranoid as that sounds), so it's a huge relief to find him standing there, waiting. His face breaks into a grin as soon as he claps eyes on Castiel. It's one of those gorgeous, crooked grins that always makes his knees feel weak, and his heartbeat quicken.

"Cas," Dean pushes off the wall and crosses the corridor. "How're you doin'? Are you… ready?"

Castiel reaches for Dean's hands. "I think so."

"Don't worry about it, man. She's just gonna lay down a few rules, make sure we're not havin' wild sex in any closets 'n stuff… It'll be fine."

"I'm sure you're right," Castiel says, pointedly ignoring the mental image of him and Dean having sex in a closet. Not that he hasn't thought about it before - not the closet part, but the _other_ part, and - you know what? He's just going to stop thinking all together now.

"C'mon. We'll be in, out, and done in no time. I swear."

Castiel blushes. "Are you deliberately making sex jokes to annoy me?"

"What? Of course not, Cas. I'm a gentleman. Maybe you've just got a dirty mind."

"I do _not_ have a dirty mind."

"Mhm," Dean licks his lips and grins.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like… You know what? I'm not going to say it."

Dean laughs. "Aw, c'mon! You've gotta say it now… That's no fair."

"You know too well what I meant."

Dean raises an eyebrow, then pulls him flush against his chest with a smirk. Castiel can feel heat rushing to his cheeks immediately. Having Dean this close to him is a recipe for disaster; it shouldn't be _legal_ for someone to be so attractive. And Dean knows it, too. He's fully aware of what he's doing to Castiel by letting his eyes linger on his lips, and trailing his hands up his arms with that stupid, gorgeous smile on his face.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about," He whispers.

Castiel can't suppress the shiver that runs down his spine. "You're such an ass…"

"Yeah, and you love it."

 _You have no idea._

Dean is just about to close the gap between them when the door opens. They instinctively spring apart, worried about being caught, but it's only Mary. They don't have to panic like that anymore; it doesn't _matter_ who sees them now. But that doesn't stop Castiel's heart from slamming against his ribcage. It'll probably take a while for their newfound freedom to sink in, and even then, kissing in front of Mary will still feel strange. He can't wait for the day when this awkwardness has all passed, and he and Dean can finally act like a normal couple.

"Well," Mary says, barely concealing a smirk behind her hand. "I can see that one night apart was too much for you both."

Dean rubs the back of his neck. "Geez, mom… shaddup."

"And it's nice to see that I raised my boys with _manners_ ," Mary rolls her eyes fondly, stepping aside to let them in. "C'mon then. Let's have a chat."

Castiel squares his shoulders and takes a breath. He doesn't know why he's so nervous - maybe because a part of him still feels like he needs to prove his worth to Mary - but the comfort equals confidence equals _success_ philosophy certainly isn't working as he hoped; he still feels like he's going to melt into a puddle at any moment, regardless of how soft his damn sweater is.

But then something brushes against the side of his hand, sending tingles up his arm. Castiel glances down to find Dean threading their fingers together. His hand instantly squeezes back, a silent thank you that earns him a shy kind of smile. It's so unlike Dean to be bashful, but Castiel can't deny how adorable it looks on him. He wants to press him up against the wall and kiss him until they can't think about anything other than each other's lips… but that wouldn't be appropriate with Mary waiting for them inside. He'll just have to resist the temptation of an adorably shy (and slightly red-faced) Dean Winchester until _after_ their meeting.

* * *

"Okay. Tell us _everything_."

Castiel and Dean are sprawled out on Charlie's bedroom floor, their hands still joined loosely together. It's only been a few minutes since their 'chat' with Mary finally came to close, and the first thing Castiel thought to do was come and tell Charlie and Gabe what happened. Dean warned him about Charlie's over-excitable nature, and Gabe's tendency to find the dirty in everything, but Castiel was too far too giddy to keep the news all to himself.

"Everything's fine," He tells Charlie with a smile. "Dean and I are officially a couple."

Gabe thrusts a lollipop out of his mouth and frowns. "Weren't you before?"

"Yes, well… Now his parents know. _Everyone_ knows. So I think that makes it _officially_ official, doesn't it?"

"What? So you can like, _dry-hump_ in the corridors now?"

Castiel shoots Gabe a threating look. "Just because we _can_ , doesn't mean we _will_. Not that I think dry-humping in the corridors is allowed anyway."

"We should check," Dean says with a wink. "Ya know, just in case."

"So what did Mary say?" Charlie thankfully interrupts, sparing Castiel the mortification of responding.

Dean shrugs. "Not much. I've gotta be outta here before six, so no sleepin' over… Oh, and no more kidnappin'. That was a big one."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Charlie raises an eyebrow. "I still can't believe you snuck out! That was _so_ awesome, dudes!"

"Speakin' of that," Dean reaches into his pocket and pulls out a paper bag. "Hey, Gabe. Catch!"

Dean tosses the bag into Gabe's lap. It's the giant pretzel from their date that they never ended up eating. Gabe shoves it into his mouth as if on autopilot, then thrusts a thumbs up in the air, eyes slipping closed in a blissed-out kind of state.

"Why does _Gabe_ always get the food?" Charlie whines, "A girl's gotta eat _too_ , ya know!"

Dean shrugs. "Sorry, Charlie. Cas ate all the cotton candy."

"I most certainly did _not_."

"Nah," Dean kisses the knuckles of their joined hands and grins. "He hated the stuff actually. Poor guy's got no taste."

"Well,sorryfor not thinking that sugary fluff should count as food."

Gabe swallows loudly and shakes his head. "Oh, Cassy. I pity your narrow, little mind. If only you could appreciate cotton candy for the glorious creation that is."

"Cool the dramatics," Charlie rolls her eyes.

"This is a very important matter, red!"

"Yeah, right," She clears her throat. " _Anyway_. How did your dad take the news, Dean?"

"Surprisingly well, I've gotta say. He was pretty pissed about the sneakin' out thing, but the rest was fine."

Castiel frowns. "Why wouldn't he have taken it well?"

"Oh, right. My dad's not exactly open-minded," Dean says with a shrug. "It took him a while to accept that I'm bi. He just didn't get it… But everything's good now. He's pretty awesome."

"So, why were you worried?"

"Uh, well," Dean blushes slightly. "Probably 'cause you're my first boyfriend."

Castiel balks. He was _not_ expecting that. He was sure that a guy like Dean - kind and funny and absolutely gorgeous - would have dated at least _one_ boy in the past. So to think that he's the first one is just… well, it's an honour. _And_ somewhat terrifying. A part of him can't help but wonder what the hell Dean sees in him, but that niggling worry is soon squashed down by the ear-shattering squeal coming from Charlie in the corner.

"That's adorable!" She claps her hands together. "Ya know, usually I have a strict 'no shipping real life people' policy, but you two are _way_ too cute."

Castiel just sits there, blinking. "Um… In English, please?"

"It means she's gonna write stories about you two goin' at it like rabbits," Gabe waggles his eyebrows.

Dean goes beet red. "The fuck you are, Charlie!"

"I'm _not_ gonna do that, okay?! I mean, I'm not a _complete_ weirdo, thank you very much… I'll just stick to my Kirk/Spock fanfics."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Castiel narrows his eyes. "But I think we should change the subject."

Dean scrubs a hand over his face. "Yeah. Good idea, Cas."

"Fine, you prudes," Charlie rolls her eyes, then jumps to her feet and reaches into her coat pocket. "Oh! I've _so_ gotta text Jo about this…"

"I thought you two communicated via love letters?"

"Shut up, Gabe."

"I don't take orders from you," Gabe sticks out his tongue and turns his back on Charlie. "Hey, isn't your sister coming tomorrow?"

Castiel glares up at him. "For the last time, Gabe: you are _not_ flirting with my sister."

"What?! I would never… What kind of person d'you think I am?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

Gabe considers this for a moment. "Yeah, probably not."

"She won't be here for long anyway. I'm sure my uncle won't allow it," Castiel shrugs sadly. "He doesn't think I'm a good influence on her."

Dean scoffs. "Lemme guess: he's worried the gay's gonna rub off on her?"

"Something like that, yes."

"What an asshole."

"This might be my only chance to see my sister for a while," Castiel says. "I'm not going to let him ruin it for me."

Gabe cheers. "That's the spirit, kiddo!"

"And I'm gonna come see you as soon as it's over," Dean rubs his hands up and down his arms soothingly. "So you can rant about the dick as much as you like."

Castiel leans into his side and smiles. "Thank you, Dean."

"Okay, this is gettin' a little gross now, guys," Gabe wrinkles his nose. "I prefer the sexy stuff to the cuddly stuff."

Dean pulls a face. "We're not gonna have sex in front of you, Gabe."

"Well, I mean… You're verging on soft porn as it is. May as well go all the way."

"You're a pig," Charlie throws her slipper at Gabe's head. "And it's frickin' _freezing_ in here!"

Castiel scoots closer to Dean. "Yeah, you're right."

"I'm sure Deano will keep your warm."

"Shut _up_ , Gabe!"

Charlie wraps her coat tightly around her chest. She looks quite comical in her pyjama bottoms, Avengers t-shirt, purple hoodie, and dark green coat. Oh, and her one slipper (the other one is currently sitting in Gabe's lap). But then again, they're all wearing multiple, clashing layers of clothing. That seems to be the norm for Dean anyway; his outfit always seems to consist of a t-shirt, jeans, heavy boots, plaid shirt, and then a bulky jacket over the top. It's a miracle he hasn't spontaneously combusted yet.

"Someone say something. I need a distraction before I freeze to death," Charlie moans, jiggling up and down on the spot.

Castiel shrugs. "I'm getting a new counsellor sometime next week."

"Ooh," Gabe rubs his hands together. "You might get the foxy Ms. Pamela Barnes. Now _she_ is one helluva lady."

"Is there anyone you're not attracted to by any chance?"

Gabe thinks for a moment. "Well, I guess hitting on my folks would be kinda creepy."

"There's like four counsellors here," Charlie says. "I had Pamela for my first few weeks, and you've had Mary… I think the other two are guys."

Oh, great. Castiel isn't a fan of older men. They always seem to disappoint him. His dad walked out, his uncle is an ass, Mr. Ketes gave him three weeks detention when he found out about his crush on him… The only decent man he's ever known is Bobby Singer, and he's basically like a surrogate father to everyone in here anyway. That hardly counts.

"I don't really care," He lies, shrugging his shoulders again. "The sessions don't really do much to help anyway."

Dean frowns. "Really? Don't you think you should, I dunno… _mention_ that?"

"I'm fine, Dean. I don't even need a counsellor," He lays a hand on his boyfriend's arm. "It's just a standard thing they give to everyone."

Before Dean can open his mouth, Meg comes walking in uninvited. Even though it's freezing, she's still wearing a pair of denim shorts and a vest top, and she has the same bored expression on her face as she flits her eyes around the room, finally settling on Castiel with a feral grin.

"The warden lit a fire," She drawls, purposely leaning against the doorframe until a sliver of skin pokes out beneath her top.

Dean slings his arm around Castiel's shoulders protectively. It's kind of adorable.

"Oh, thank the Lord!" Charlie springs to her feet.

Gabe shoves his lollipop back into his mouth and hurries after her. "Hey! No hogging the heat, red!"

Castiel is grateful for the interruption. The last thing he wants to do is discuss what's going on inside his head with Dean, the boy he's been trying to impress for the past month and a half. If only he knew the whole truth. The sessions don't help him because _nothing_ can help him, except maybe Dean himself. But how clingy does that sound? He doesn't want to pressure Dean into staying with him for that reason alone; he doesn't _deserve_ to feel responsible for him. And even when Dean finally does come to his senses and walks away, at least Castiel will have this time to cling onto - a few good memories to keep him sane for as long as possible.

"C'mon," Dean lifts him to his feet, purposely shoving past Meg on their way out the door. It's hilarious how jealous he gets. "Ya know, sittin' by the fire is also pretty chick-flick."

"You'll enjoy it then."

Dean smirks and bumps their shoulders together. "Shaddup."

* * *

When six o'clock comes around, Castiel isn't ready to say goodbye to Dean. He's gotten too used to holding his hand without a care, and kissing him whenever he feels like it, and letting himself stare at him dreamily when there's nothing else to do. He should probably be grateful for the compromise - _some_ Dean is better than _no_ Dean - but it's still hard, especially when the restrictions of their relationship are all down to him. If only he was a normal teenager, then spending the day with his boyfriend wouldn't be such a big deal.

"C'mere," Dean reaches for his hand as they're walking towards the foyer.

Castiel links their fingers together with a sigh. "I wish you could stay a little longer."

"You worried about your uncle?"

"No. Well, yes… But that's not what I mean."

Dean draws him closer. "I get it, Cas. You know I'd stay if I could though, right?"

"Of course. I'm just glad we get to see each other at all."

"It's awesome," Dean grins, kissing along Castiel's jaw and nuzzling his cheek. His nose is cold against his skin, but Castiel's face is still burning hot. Dean should definitely not be nibbling his ear like that in public… It might not end well. "You know this means we've got nothin' to worry about now? As soon as you get outta here, everything's gonna be fine."

Castiel pulls away gently. "Dean. I live almost four hours away from here. How are we going to still see other when I'm gone?"

"I'm a sucker for road trips, man. Don't worry about it."

Castiel sighs, but plasters on a smile. How can he tell him that it's not that simple? That if his uncle were to find out about them, that he'd probably be sent away for good? That _without_ his uncle's support, he has no money, no family, no _future_? That even if he _could_ afford to sacrifice all of that for Dean, that leaving his sister is completely out of the question? How can he risk shattering that hopeful expression on Dean's face by telling him the brutal truth? Call him selfish, weak - whatever you want, but he just can't do it.

"Does that mean I'll finally get to meet my competition?" He quirks an eyebrow. "Your 'other baby'?"

A grin breaks across Dean's face. "Oh, yeah! You're gonna love her, Cas. She's _beautiful_."

"Oh, I see…"

"Not more beautiful than _you_ , of course."

Castiel chuckles. "Nice try."

"Just think about it! You, me 'n the open road… We can go wherever we want to, just drive until we find some place worth stoppin'."

"That sounds nice," Castiel smiles, though his heart is aching inside. "What about the Grand Canyon?"

"You wanna see the Grand Canyon?"

Castiel blushes for some reason. "It's always been a dream of mine. I'm not sure why."

"You wanna go? I'll take ya. We'll go all over the country!"

"Really?"

"Mhm," Dean's smile softens as he wraps his arms around Castiel's waist. "And once we've done all the travellin' we wanna do, we'll come back here. Buy ourselves that yellow house."

Castiel swallows thickly. "Lemon yellow."

"Yeah, Cas," Dean murmurs, resting their foreheads together. "Lemon yellow."

"Congratulations," The eerily calm voice sends shivers down his spine. It's a voice he's grown familiar with by now, but it never fails to twist his stomach.

"What do you want, Lucifer?"

The other boy takes a step forward, and Castiel can feel Dean tense in his arms. "Oh, just to say well done. Your relationship is out in the open now, isn't it? I'm not mistaken? Only, I overhead your conversation with your friends."

"Look, asshole," Dean actually _growls_. "Just leave us alone. We don't give a crap about your _congratulations_ , alright?"

Lucifer raises his eyebrows. "Why so angry, Dean?"

"You really think Cas wants to talk to you? Just get outta here!"

" _Actually_ , we're best buddies now. Didn't you know? He often pays me a visit at the end of the day… You know, for a little _chat_."

A look of anger and hurt flashes across Dean's face. "I don't give a shit, okay? Cas is way above a useless piece of crap like you. He'd never be your _friend_ , so don't even -"

"Dean," Castiel places a hand on his shoulder. "Please, just stop it."

"This guy is a _dick_ , Cas!"

"Maybe so, but you're not doing anyone any favours by shouting at him like that. Just drop it."

Dean hesitates for a moment, then his shoulders sag and the cold hatred in his eyes slowly melts away. Castiel can see the muscles twitching in his jaw, but he thankfully doesn't say another word. The last thing he wants to do is break up a fight between his boyfriend and a potentially dangerous psychopath in the middle of the corridor. Especially after everything has just been sorted out with Mary.

"I was actually being genuine," Lucifer says, mild irritation tinging his words. "Not that it matters. You're clearly just like the rest of them."

Castiel's not sure what he means by that, but there's something about the light sheen of rejection in his eyes that makes him feel instantly guilty. He didn't do anything wrong. He _certainly_ didn't deserve any of that from Dean.

"I'm sorry," He says, ignoring the look Dean gives him out of the corner of his eye. "And thank you. _Really_."

A faint smile touches Lucifer's lips, promptly twisting into a smirk. "Anyway. I best be off. I'll see you later I'm guessing?"

Dean makes a move forward, but Castiel stops him with a hand. "Just ignore him, Dean."

They watch him disappear down the corridor, whistling a distant tune. Castiel doesn't like how the air feels different now, like that moment they were sharing before Lucifer turned up has been snatched away for good. He can practically feel the betrayal wafting off Dean, but he has no reason to be sorry. Dean's behaviour was completely uncalled for, and he had every right to apologise to Lucifer on his behalf.

"You shouldn't speak to him like that," Castiel says quietly. "It's not right."

Dean stiffens. "You don't know him like I do, Cas."

"I might not know what he did to you, but that doesn't change anything. Do you really want to stoop to his level?"

"He didn't do anything to me," Dean mutters. He looks like he's about to elaborate, but then shakes his head instead. "It doesn't matter. The guy's just an asshole."

Castiel sighs, taking Dean's hand again. "I don't pay him visits, by the way. He keeps acting strange, like he knows me or something... so I just wanted to ask him a few things. But you're right; he _is_ an asshole."

"I'm sorry for shoutin' like that," Dean squeezes his hand. "I guess I got carried away."

"It's okay, Dean."

"I'm not usually like that, ya know? It's just… The guy really gets to me."

"I understand."

"Hey, boys," They both turn to find Mary walking towards them. She's wearing her coat, and there's a bag slung over her shoulder, so Castiel guesses she's heading home.

"Hey, mom. We goin' now?"

"Afraid so," She smiles, casting a sympathetic look at Castiel. "Honey, do you mind bringing the car around front?"

Dean's eyes light up in a flash. He really does have a strange obsession with that car, but Castiel can't deny how adorable it is. There's something about the boyish excitement that really pinches at his heart. He only wishes that Dean would always smile like that.

"Sure," He nods his head (a little too enthusiastically), then turns to Castiel. "You sure you're okay about tomorrow?"

Castiel sighs. "I'll be fine, Dean. I _promise_."

"Well, okay then," Dean doesn't look too convinced, but he's smiling when he leans over to give him a quick kiss. His lips are warm and soft, and Castiel could easily fall asleep like this.

"I'll see you tomorrow," He says once Dean's pulled away. "You are stopping by aren't you?"

Dean shakes his head fondly. "Of course I am, you idiot. I'll be waitin' outside."

"Okay. Good."

"Seya, Cas," Dean squeezes his hand once more before walking away.

Once he's gone, Mary touches his shoulder and steps around in front of him. The look on her face tells him they're about to have another talk - and if that's not absolutely terrifying, he's not sure what is.

"I just wanted to say, Castiel," Mary starts with a small smile. "I'm sorry for the way I acted in our last session. I was so intent on finding out the truth that I broke a lot of professional boundaries, I apologise for that."

Castiel squirms. "Oh. It's, um… It's fine, Mrs. Winchester."

"Please, call me Mary, will you? I don't want you to feel uncomfortable around me," Her mouth twitches. "I'm a different person outside of this building, you know?"

"Your my boyfriend's mother," He says awkwardly. "And you've seen a side of me that I hope Dean never has to see. I apologise for feeling a little bit… uncomfortable. It's just strange."

"If you're serious about Dean - and I'm pretty sure that you _are_ \- then he's going to have to see that side of you eventually."

Castiel clenches his jaw. "Not if I get better."

"You're not _sick_ , Castiel. You just need someone to confide in."

"I'm not going to put Dean through that," He says, avoiding Mary's eyes. "It's not fair."

For a moment, Mary doesn't say anything - it's so quiet that Castiel can hear the pipes ticking - and then she clears her throat and smiles. Castiel doesn't like that smile; it's an 'I'm about to say something really important' kind of smile, and that puts him on edge.

"I've never seen Dean like this before," Mary shrugs. "I mean, he's dated a few girls in the past, but it was never anything serious. But with you? Well, he's different."

Castiel swallows. "What do you mean?"

"It's in the way he's looks at you; it's the way John used to look at me when were kids."

"He doesn't look at me in any way."

"He does," Mary raises an eyebrow and smirks. "You _know_ he does."

Castiel looks down at the ground for a moment, then glances up at Mary. "You were a good counsellor. You… You listened to me. So, thank you. I'll, um… I'll miss you."

Mary's smile turns a little sad. "I'm going to find you the best replacement I can, okay? Someone who's perfect for you."

"Thank you, Mary."

"No problem," She pats him on the shoulder. "I'll see you around, Castiel."

Just as she's turning to leave, Castiel opens his mouth, and the question just comes tumbling out. "What's wrong with Lucifer? _Luke_ , I mean. Why does no one like to talk about him?"

Mary's shoulders hunch up, but her face is more composed than last time, almost as she was expecting to hear this question again.

"That boy is… Well, he's _troubled_ , Castiel. He's a very sad, lonely individual who… who lashes out as a defence mechanism," She says in an even tone of voice. "He's very reserved, very _private_. And maybe it should stay that way."

Castiel gets the hint loud and clear. "I'm sorry, I just… There's something about him. I can't explain it."

"He has that effect on most people. Don't worry about it."

"Well," Castiel forces a smile. "Goodbye, Mary."

The tension eases from her face, and she returns the smile. "Goodbye, Castiel."

And then she turns and walks away.

* * *

Castiel feels like he's gone full circle. Just this morning his mind was racing back and forth, back and forth… and now it's exactly the same. His thoughts keep flitting between Lucifer and Zachariah, Mary and Dean, his sister, and his mysterious new counsellor. There's no _way_ he's going to get any sleep tonight, which is really not good considering what's happening tomorrow. He wants to be a sharp as he can when Zachariah visits; one slip-up, and the whole thing could come crashing down around him. He has to be _smart_ about this.

Instead of stressing over Zachariah, he tries to look forward to seeing Anna. He hasn't seen his sister in almost two months; that's the longest they've ever been apart. Zachariah is strongly against letting children use mobile phones, so they haven't even been able to text each other. Not knowing how his sister is doing is the ultimate torture.

He's trying to think of the words to say to his uncle when there comes a light tapping on the window. He almost falls off the bed in his haste to turn around and see what it is. Of course, it's only a familiar face staring back at him. Why is he even surprised?

"Dean," He puts on his most chastising tone of voice as he slides the window open, though the smile on his face kind of ruins it. "You're not supposed to be here. No spending the night, remember?"

"I'm not stayin'," Dean climbs through the window with ease. He's getting much better at that. "I just came to see you quickly."

"We saw each other less than five hours ago, Dean."

"Yeah, well… I didn't get a chance to tell you somethin' important."

Castiel frowns. "What is it?"

"That I'm proud of you," Dean says with a smile, winding his arms around Castiel's waist and pulling him forward for a kiss. "You were so badass yesterday, the way you came out and told everyone. It was pretty awesome, man."

"Well, I wouldn't call it _awesome_ … I just couldn't take the lies anymore."

Dean huffs. "Can't you take a compliment for once? Ya know, without puttin' yourself down?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"You've got issues," Dean chuckles. "I mean, if you can't see how awesome you are, then I don't know what to say."

Castiel ducks his head to hide his blush. "For someone who doesn't like 'chick-flick moments', you sure are a sap at times."

"A guy's gotta be romantic now and again," Dean smirks. "Gotta keep up the illusion that I'm a good person."

"That's no illusion, Dean."

"Yeah, well… You're my boyfriend. It's your job to say that."

Castiel sighs. "Anyone with _eyes_ can see how amazing you are, Dean."

"Oh, so you only like me for my rockin' bod? I never took you for the shallow type."

"Shut up and get out of here," Castiel shakes his head, smiling.

"Okay, okay. Just one more thing," Dean brings one hand to his cheek, cradling his face. "Are you definitely gonna be okay tomorrow? 'cause I can come with you if you want me to. You know I will."

Castiel touches Dean's hand and smiles. "I think it's best if I do this by myself. But thank you for the offer, Dean. It means a lot."

"Don't thank me," Dean forces a grin, but Castiel can see right through it. "S'all part of the job description, ya know: sexy, supportive boyfriend."

"Oh, _sexy_ , huh?"

"Damn straight. I'm a good-lookin' guy, there's no denying it."

"Modesty is such an attractive quality."

Dean's grin turns genuine for a split second. "I know, right? Works wonders for me."

Castiel helps Dean back out the window, carefully shifting his leg over and out in case he hits it on the glass. When he's safe on the other side, he pokes his head back in and takes Castiel's hand again. They have this thing about holding hands; it's like their safe place.

"Text me as soon as it's over," Dean says in a stern, yet gentle kind of voice. "And I'll be in as soon as I can, okay?"

Castiel smiles. "Okay, Dean."

"And if it's goin' balls up, and you need some help, then I'll be there."

"Okay," Castiel laughs. "I know how to reach you."

"Yeah. Just don't be afraid to do it."

"I won't, Dean."

They hold each other's gaze for a long moment, until Dean finally backs down with a sigh. He can tell that Dean isn't being fooled by the composed façade that he's hiding behind. In a way, that's a good thing because it proves how well they understand each other. But it's also extremely frustrating because it also means that he can't get away with pretending like he does with everyone else. Nothing is ever the same with Dean.

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, Cas," Dean leans up to kiss him on the lips, lingering there for a moment longer than usual.

Castiel's breath goes all fluttery once they part, dancing across the night in clouds of crystallized air. "Yeah. I'll see you."

Letting go of Dean's hand is hard. Watching him walk away is even worse. Sitting in his empty room, overthinking what's going to happen tomorrow, without the comfort of Dean's hand resting in his own… Well, that's pure _agony_. It seems that this act of calm composure is far less convincing when he's only got himself to convince.


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry for the late chapter, guys! Warning - there is a bit of abuse/homophobic slurs in this chapter, and some mild 'smut' at the end. I really hope you enjoy it! Please, please, PLEASE leave reviews if you can. It really means the world to me. Thank you so much**

* * *

Every time he looks at the clock (which feels like every few seconds) time seems to have jumped forward at an unnatural rate. He tries not to let it bother him, to focus on Charlie and Gabe's conversation about Laffy Taffy, or whatever the hell it is they're rambling on about, but the incessant ticking of the clock keeps drawing his mind back to his worst fear; in just under half an hour, his uncle will be here to see him. It's all he's been able to think about for the past week, and now it's finally here. Last night, after Dean left, he lay awake all night just staring up at the ceiling. His eyes are burning with fatigue, and every slight movement feels like pushing through a tank of golden syrup. All he wants to do is sleep…

"You don't look so hot, kiddo," Gabe pokes him in the shoulder.

Castiel blinks back the sleep in his eyes and groans. "I don't feel so hot, either."

"You know, you don't _have_ to see the man."

"I guess not," Castiel stretches his arms in front of him, letting his bones pop with a satisfying crunch. "But it would be silly not to. I can't avoid him forever. Plus, I want to see my sister."

Charlie scooches a little closer to him on the floor and wraps an arm around his shoulder. "Dude, you shouldn't do this if you're stressing out so much."

"I'm not stressing out, don't worry."

"You've looked at the clock about eight times in the past thirty seconds."

Castiel scratches his head. "Okay, yes. I _am_ worried. But I'm sure I'll be fine. It's not as if he can do anything to me here."

"That's _so_ not the point."

"Red's kinda right," Gabe says with a shrug. "You're having some kind of weird PTSD by the looks of it, and _that_ ain't good."

Castiel looks down at his hands. He's not sure he'd call it PTSD, but he _has_ been having a lot of flashbacks to his time at Zachariah's house lately. He and Anna have lived there for a few years now, but the beatings only started recently, after Zachariah started to suspect something. He still doesn't know what gave it away - maybe he just comes across as being different - but his uncle has been relentless ever since. Even simple things, like going to another boy's house to study for a couple of hours, is worthy of a backhand. Just a few months ago, Zachariah held him up against his bedroom door by the scruff of his neck for texting some guy, Inias, the answer to a math question they'd been given for homework. He's constantly walking on eggshells, never sure what is and isn't allowed, never knowing when the next punch will come.

"We're just going to talk," He says breezily, trying to convince himself more than anything. "He won't let anyone else see what he's really like. He's not that stupid."

Gabe and Charlie share a look - a 'this guy is in complete denial' kind of look. But he's _not_ in denial; he knows too well what an abusive, homophobic ass his uncle is, but he _also_ knows he can't do anything about it. He's eighteen in May. That's over five months away… And until then, Zachariah has complete control over him. End of story.

"Does Dean know?" Charlie asks him gently. "I mean, have you told him about…"

Castiel shakes his head. "No. And he's not _going_ to find out."

"Cas -"

"I don't want him to see me that way. I don't want him to see me as… as the _victim_ , as someone weak. I don't want his _pity_ , Charlie."

Gabe rolls his eyes. "You're an idiot, Cassy. The kid's obviously head over heels for you! You really think him finding out the truth is gonna change anything? You can't keep lying forever, you know."

"I'll be long gone before he has to find out," Castiel turns away, leaning on his hand to muffle the trembling in his voice. "That, or he'll have lost interest. Either or is fine."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Gabe, please don't."

"No, alright? You need to trust me on this one, okay?" Gabe grabs his chin and twists his face forward. "Dean is like a lovesick puppy dog whenever he's around you. I've known the guy for almost a year, ever since Jo came in, and I've _never_ seen him like this before."

Castiel scoffs, but his heart is still thumping. "You sound like Mary."

"You mean to tell me that even Dean's _mom_ thinks he's completely in love with you, and you _still_ won't accept it?"

"No, I didn't… That's not what I… We've only known each other for a month or so! He couldn't possibly be in _love_ with me. That's _ridiculous_ , it's… It's _crazy_."

Gabe quirks an eyebrow. "Oh, but it's perfectly sane for you to be in love with him?"

"I'm not -"

"Don't even deny it, Cassy! We all know the truth."

Castiel flits his eyes between Charlie and Gabe, then buries his head in his hands, face burning. "What is wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with being in love," Charlie says. "It's actually kinda awesome if you give it a chance."

"Wait, are we talking about Dean and Cassy, or you and Jo?"

"Shut up, Gabe."

"I don't want to be in love," Castiel says with a groan, lifting his head all of a sudden. "Yes, it feels nice at the moment - _very_ nice, in fact - but what about when that wears off? I'm not naïve enough to believe that Dean will be around forever! But now I've got to go about the rest of my miserable life knowing what something _good_ feels like. How is that fair?"

"What makes you think he's going anywhere?"

"That's how it works," Castiel shrugs. He remembers loving his father. He _thought_ his father loved himback, but apparently not; he left once the novelty of being a parent wore off. "You can't blame people for walking away… It's just in their nature."

Charlie gives him a sympathetic look. "Not everyone leaves, Cas. Some people _do_ stay."

"Well," Castiel laughs sourly. "Once my three months are up, my uncle will come back and _I'll_ be the one leaving for once. How ironic is that?"

"You don't have to go back with that abusive dickbag, Cassy! Just tell Bobby the truth, and he'll keep you safe!"

Castiel smiles sadly. "I've told you, Gabe. I can't do that to Anna."

"But if they can prove it, there'll take her away too!"

"And what if they can't? What will happen to her then?"

Gabe shrugs. "You've gotta think about yourself sometimes, kiddo. You know you can't live like this forever."

"Maybe things will be different when I turn eighteen. Maybe then I can try for custody," Castiel says, his voice shaking with doubt. "But until then… It's my job to protect my sister. She's all I've got left at the end of the day."

"And what about Dean? What about _us_?"

Castiel smiles. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, Gabe. You too, Charlie. But I have to be realistic about this."

"So you're gonna let some asshole treat you like crap for no good reason! C'mon, Cassy!"

"Please don't tell Dean about this," Castiel sets his jaw. "I don't want him to worry. There's no point in riling him up. You know how he gets."

Gabe looks like he's about to argue, but Charlie subdues him with a small shake of her head. "We won't say anything."

Castiel nods. As much as he appreciates Gabe trying to look out for him, he really doesn't want to argue about this right now. He knows how this is going to end. What would be the point in wishing for an alternative? He'd do just about anything to stay with Dean without having to sacrifice Anna, but that's just a fantasy… They're never going to live in a lemon yellow house, or go see the Grand Canyon, or have two children - a girl and a boy - who call him papa, and Dean dad, or get a german shepherd and a stupid fish with a stupid name. He's never going to have any kind of future with Dean, so why bother shattering this brief glimpse of happiness? Why cut short this small break from the endless beatings and abuse? Why not allow himself this one, selfish gift of pure bliss, if only for a few more weeks?

"I swear to god, Cassy," Gabe says tightly. "If that dickwad lays a _finger_ on you… Well, let's just say I won't be held responsible for my actions."

Castiel huffs a laugh. "Thank you, Gabe. _Really_."

All of a sudden, he's craving Dean's company. Sitting here with Charlie and Gabe has certainly calmed him down somewhat, but there's something unique about Dean's touch, his _voice_ , that seems to soothe him instantly. He misses him in a way that he can't quite comprehend, as if he _needs_ him just as much as he wants him. Is this what love is supposed to feel like? Is it really supposed to make you ache like this? He tries closing his eyes and picturing that face-splitting grin, or those deep green eyes, or that stubborn freckle behind his left ear that's just a touch darker than the rest of them. But his imagination can only take him so far, and the storm clouds of dread in the pit of his stomach keep getting darker and darker with each passing second…

"Castiel," A gruff voice comes from the other side of the door. "You in there?"

Gabe sits up and squares his shoulders. "Who's asking?"

"Open the damn door, boy."

Castiel nods his approval, and Gabe shifts the chair propped up against the handle (Charlie wanted to make it more private) to the side, letting Bobby in. He's wearing that same, sad expression on his face when the door swings open - the one that Castiel can read like a book.

"He's here, son," Bobby says with a twist of the cap in his hands.

A stuttered breath punches out of his lungs, but he still manages to force a smile and get to his feet. He's not going to let Zachariah reduce him to a cowardly mess before he even sees him. He won't give him the satisfaction. All that matters is seeing Anna and making sure she's okay. The rest, well… The rest he'll just have to deal with.

"Okay," He clears his throat, casting a glance back at Charlie and Gabe before turning to Bobby with a sigh. "I'm ready."

* * *

Zachariah is waiting for him in the canteen. He's wearing a grey suit with a dark red tie and newly polished shoes - dressed to impress. Castiel can smell the cheap cologne his uncle always wears to church wafting down the room; it's nearly enough to make his asthma kick in again. It wouldn't surprise him if Zachariah wore a whole bottle of the stuff for that very reason.

Castiel swallows, glancing over his shoulder at Bobby. "Where's my sister?"

"She couldn't make it," Bobby says carefully. "Yer uncle told me he still wants to see ya, though. You gonna be okay with that?"

"No," Castiel clenches his fists. "But what choice do I have?"

"I can call this whole thing off, ya know. Just say the word, boy, 'n I'll throw him out."

Castiel slowly lets his fists unfurl, then sighs. "No, thanks, Bobby. That won't be necessary."

"You sure 'bout that?"

"Hardly. But there's no point in walking away now."

Bobby narrows his eyes for a moment, then pats him on the shoulder and turns to leave. "Like I said: just say the word, 'n he'll be outta here."

Castiel keeps his gaze fixed on Zachariah as Bobby walks away. He looks painfully smug with his signature smirk, thin lips curling as Castiel approaches the table. There's a lump in his throat, and a shiver snaking down his spine, but he somehow manages to keep his eyes locked with his uncle's cold, unwavering stare. It's similar to how Lucifer looks at him sometimes, only Castiel never feels _in danger_ around Lucifer, just a little uncomfortable. But there's something dark and unsettling in Zachariah's eyes, almost _threatening_ …

"Castiel," Zachariah says with a sickly sweet smile. "Sit, will you?"

"Where's Anna?"

"Now, that's no way to say hello, is it?"

Castiel grits his teeth. "You _promised_ she'd be here! You said -"

"I never said anything of the sort. I told that Singer fellow that bringing your sister was a possibility. Nothing more."

"Why?" Castiel asks, his voice trembling with anger. "Why would you do this?"

Zachariah scoffs. "Oh, don't feel sorry for yourself, you stupid boy."

"I'm leaving."

" _Sit down_ ," Zachariah demands as Castiel turns towards the door. There's a fury in his words that instantly dissolves Castiel's sudden bravery, reducing him to a scared little boy all over again. It's against his own control that he sits down across from Zachariah; he's a slave to his own fear when it comes to his uncle.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Castiel pointedly ignoring Zachariah's stony gaze. His grey eyes keeping raking up and down his body, scrutinizing every small detail, _wrinkling_ his nose in disgust. Castiel just holds his breath as his uncle continues to study him.

"Why are you wearing that?" Zachariah spits.

Castiel glances down at his outfit. He threw on his father's trenchcoat this morning, only as an extra layer; it's been freezing for the past three or four days here.

"It's cold," He says weakly.

"That's no excuse," Zachariah snarls. "Do you _want_ be more like that man?"

"My dad, you mean?"

"How dare you -"

"I'm sorry," Castiel mumbles, ducking his head. "That was… I-I didn't mean it. He's not my father, I know that."

Zachariah sucks his teeth. "He _is_ you father, unfortunately. That's precisely the problem."

"But I'm not like him, uncle. I swear -"

"You're more like him than you'll ever know," Zachariah says coldly.

Castiel frowns. "What do you mean by that?"

"How are things going here then? Are they treating you well?"

Castiel deflates. His uncle has always been a little cryptic. It's an unspoken rule never to bring up their father in conversation, so Castiel has no idea where he is or what's he doing. Poor Anna was only four when he left; she probably doesn't even remember him.

"It's fine," He says. "Everyone's been very kind and welcoming. I've made some friends."

Zachariah looks suspicious. "What about church? Have you been saying your prayers every night like we discussed?"

"I, um… I-It hasn't been that simple."

"Speak clearly, boy."

Castiel swallows thickly. He'd completely forgotten about their agreement, how he was supposed to attend church every Sunday, and pray for forgiveness every day. Religion is extremely important to the Miltons, so to blatantly ignore a request like that, well… It's an insult really. A _major_ insult. But lying to his uncle will only make the consequences more severe.

"They don't have a Sunday school here, and I can't go to church by myself."

"And your prayers? Don't tell me you've disregarded them as well."

"I've prayed," Castiel wrings his hands together. "Occasionally, I mean. There's been a lot going on, and I… I-I haven't always remembered. I know, that's no excuse, but I've tried my best. I swear to you, uncle, I have."

Zachariah regards him for a long, agonizing moment, then folds his hands on the table and shrugs - actually _shrugs_. Castiel can feel his jaw drop.

"Well, that's perfectly okay," Zachariah says nonchalantly. "If you couldn't _help_ it, how could I possibly blame you?"

"Really? You… You're fine about this?"

"Absolutely," Zachariah nods. "It's only the fate of your soul that's on the line, of course. Why on earth would I be upset? Whether you go to hell is completely your business, after all, and you clearly don't care much about that sort of thing."

Castiel closes his eyes. "Uncle -"

"It's only the reputation of our entire family hanging by a thread, isn't it? Why should it matter whether you repent for your sins or not? It's not a big _deal_ , is it?"

"Uncle, please -"

"And if Anna is mocked for her brother's indecency, it won't matter. She'll learn to ignore the looks of disgust and _pity_ , the bullying and the constant shame. Oh, who knows? Maybe her big brother's influence will rub off on her. Now, wouldn't that be perfect? Two _abominations_ in the family. I'm sure she'll soon adjust to being an outcast."

"I didn't mean to -"

"You didn't mean to _what_ , Castiel? Didn't mean to take my charity for granted and _completely_ disrespect me?" Zachariah leans forward and smacks his fist on the table. "Do you think I'm an idiot? That I don't see you for what you are? You should be grateful that I'm paying for your treatment here. There are far worse places that I could've sent you… Most people would've cast you out onto the streets like the _animal_ you are, but not me."

Castiel sucks in a breath. "I'm so sorry, uncle. I-I've been ungrateful. I _see_ that now. Just give me one last chance… I'll say my prayers, I _promise_. I'll go to church!"

"What's to say you're not too far gone?"

"I'm not," Castiel digs his nails into his palms, trying to keep his frustration at bay. He needs his uncle to believe he can change, for Anna's sake as much as his. He can't let Zachariah ship him off to some anti-gay camp and leave his sister alone.

Zachariah shakes his head. "You should be ashamed. I brought you here to be cured, but you're obviously more interested in corrupting your soul even further."

"I'm sorry, uncle."

"I'm willing to let this slide," Zachariah says tersely. "But don't think I won't be checking in on you regularly. I'll even pay the _brutes_ here extra money to take you to church if I have to. I'm a good Christian, you see."

Castiel can't help but scoff.

"You listen here, boy," Zachariah grabs him by the wrists, dragging him forward so his elbows smash against the table. "You _will_ show me some respect!"

"Yes. Yes, uncle."

"I will _not_ be mocked by your kind!"

"I'm sorry."

"Do you understand?!"

"Yes -"

" _Do you_?!"

"Yes, uncle! I understand!"

Zachariah releases him, letting him fall back into his chair with a thud. Castiel can already feel the tender flesh circling his wrists, burning like bands of red fire. He knots his trembling hands together and keeps them in his lap, safe from Zachariah's grasp. It was stupid of him to disrespect his uncle like that, but something inside of him just snapped. Maybe it was him calling the staff here _brutes_ , or him claiming to be a good Christian despite everything he's done… Or maybe he's just sick of being treated like crap. But ultimately, his feelings don't mean anything. Zachariah is the one in charge here, and to undermine him - whether intentionally or not - is not a smart move to make.

"Well then," Zachariah dusts down the front of his suit and forces a smile. "It's nice to see you haven't grown a backbone while you've been here."

"I'm sorry, uncle."

"Oh, quit apologising, you pathetic oaf."

Castiel clears his throat. "Anna, is she… I mean, she's not sick or anything?"

"Thankfully not. But who knows what could've happened if I'd brought her along and exposed her to such… Well, there aren't really words, are there?" Zachariah sneers in disgust. "Anna is a good child. Pure of heart. I wouldn't want to have to inflict the same consequences on her."

Castiel grips the legs of his chair to stop himself from lashing out. He knows what Zachariah's consequences are like; they're bloody and cruel and inhumane. He can still feel the sting of his belt, fresh against his bare skin, and the unrelenting chill of the water as he hosed him down like a dog in the backyard. To even think about Anna in the same position - alone and afraid with such a monster - makes him want to scream. He's _this close_ to letting go and attacking his uncle with every ounce of pure hatred in his body. But there's only one way that can end, and that's with him in some juvenile detention centre, and his sister paying the price back home.

"You're different," Zachariah murmurs, flitting his eyes over the angry blush in Castiel's cheeks. "The way you're looking at me… You're angry?"

Castiel tightens his grip on the chair. "No. No, I'm exactly the same."

"That's a lie. You're lacking the same respect as before, the same… _fear_ ," Zachariah grabs the sleeve of his trenchcoat and yanks him forward again. "What kind of _friends_ have you made in this godforsaken place, Castiel?"

"What do you mean?"

"Someone's being having a bad influence on you. Come on: spit out. Tell me who it is."

Panic quickly rises in his throat like bile. "I don't… Please, uncle. You've got it all wrong. I've only got two friends, and they're fine. I promise -"

"There's an edge to you now," Zachariah hisses. "A _fight_ that's been sparked by someone in particular. Someone _special_."

"No, I swear -"

"Is it another boy? Are you lying with another man, is that it?" Zachariah's eyes are alight with fury. "Oh, _Castiel_ … You sick, demented child! The devil lives in you, my boy, and I'm afraid there might not be a cure this time."

Castiel struggles against his uncle's grasp. He can feel his fingers digging into the fresh bruises around his wrists, searing his flesh with dull sparks of pain. His breath is coming short, his vision going dark. He's having an attack. He can't breathe. Every muscle is screaming for relief, every nerve dancing with agony. He needs to get out. He needs to be _let go_.

"Please, uncle. Stop -"

"You disgusting _bastard_ child! Why my sister didn't just _dump_ you on the nearest sidewalk, I'll never know. You Novak scum were never fit to associate with our family!"

"Uncle, I can't -"

"And to think I almost gave you a second chance. Well, I can assure you that's not going to happen now," Zachariah twists his grip on Castiel's wrists, bringing tears to his eyes. "I know just the place to send you. A place where even the darkest can be cleansed."

Castiel whimpers. "You're hurting me, uncle."

"Just you wait, my boy. You don't know real pain yet…"

And then the door bursts open, and Zachariah snaps his hands back in a flash, composing himself with ease. Castiel's not sure how he does it, but he manages to look completely calm by the time Bobby steps inside. His hands are folded together, his expression neutral; there's not a single hair out of place. Everything seems perfectly fine, with only the tear tracks down Castiel's cheeks to suggest otherwise.

"What in god's name is goin' on in here?" Bobby marches up to the table.

Zachariah shoots Castiel a fleeting look of warning, then smiles up at Bobby. "Oh, we were just having a chat, Mr. Singer. My nephew's been telling me all about his progress here. Isn't that right, Castiel?"

Bobby doesn't look at all convinced. "You okay, son?"

"He's fine," Zachariah growls, not quite managing to keep the disdain out of his voice at Bobby calling him 'son'.

"Well, I ain't askin' you."

Castiel quickly scrubs his tears away, sets his jaw, and turns around in his seat. He still looks like a wreck, judging by the look on Bobby's face, but he manages to keep his voice controlled. "He's right, Bobby. I'm fine, don't worry."

The two men turn their attentions to each other, standing off in the middle of the canteen. It would probably be hilarious if Castiel weren't on the brink of crumbling right now, with bruises around his wrists and tears staining his face. He _hates_ himself for breaking down in front of Zachariah. He started off strong - _too_ strong - and then he fell apart. His uncle never fails to make him feel utterly useless and disgusting. An _abomination_ , he said. _Bastard child_. _Sick. Demented_. What did he ever do to deserve any of that? He didn't choose to be born this way. He didn't choose to fall in love with a green-eyed boy with freckles and sandy brown hair and a smile that could light the night sky. He didn't choose to be _him_.

"Vistin' time's over," Bobby says gruffly, adjusting the peak of his cap. "I'd like you to leave now, if ya don't mind."

Zachariah purses his lips, flicking his eyes over at Castiel, then chuckles. There's a definite chill in the air as he finally stands and fixes his collar. He's a fairly short, plump man, but he has a strong presence that can fill a whole room. Castiel isn't proud of the way he instinctively lowers his head out of respect, but what can he do? Zachariah raised him from the age of thirteen to be an obedient little soldier, never stepping a foot out of line, _never_ showing any disrespect. Those morals are drilled far too deep into his mind now.

"Well. It's certainly been a pleasure," Zachariah pats Castiel on the shoulder, not even reacting to the way he flinches back. "Maybe Anna can come visit when she's feeling better?"

Castiel knows that's never going to happen. Zachariah's going to wait until his three months are up here (it's all pre-paid for, after all), and then he's going to send him away in the dead of night without so much as _seeing_ Anna first. Castiel doesn't want to imagine what kind of place his uncle will send him to, but it won't be anywhere good.

"I'll see myself out, shall I?"

"That'd probably be best, Mr. Milton."

Zachariah slides his cold gaze over Castiel one last time before walking away. It's only once the click of his shoes has faded down the corridor that Castiel finally relaxes, slumping back in his chair with a breath of relief.

"I'm sorry, son," Bobby says, the gentlest he's ever heard him before. "I should've seen the warnin' signs when yer sister didn't show up."

Castiel shakes his head. "No, it's not your fault. I was careless enough to get on his bad side."

"Yer just a kid, Castiel. You ain't gotta be _careful_ all the damn time."

"That's what my uncle expects of me."

"Well, if ya ask me, that man ain't fit to look after you."

Castiel smiles. "He's the only family we've got."

Bobby frowns deeply, scratching his chin as Castiel gets to his feet. "Ya know, Castiel… If yer uncle's… _done_ anything to you 'n sister before, all you've gotta do is tell me. I can look after both of you. Scout's honour."

"I really appreciate you trying to help," Castiel pulls down his sleeves to hide the bruises around his wrists. "But I'm fine. We're _both_ fine."

Bobby sighs. "I heard some of the things he was sayin' to you, son. That ain't right."

"I… I probably deserved it."

"Don't be an idjit," Bobby clamps a hand on his shoulder. "No kid deserves that, ya hear me? No matter what it is you've done… Yer uncle ought be ashamed of himself."

Castiel wills the impending flood of tears down. He's never been much of a crier; to express your emotions so openly is a sign of weakness, and he _can't_ afford to be weak. But he can't be strong either, unless he wants his uncle to beat the fear into him again. He needs to find a perfect balance - a silent strength from within - and somehow get through the upcoming months, no matter how difficult they may be, with his head held high. It's almost inevitable now that once Zachariah comes back for him, he won't ever be able to return again. And if he did, he just wouldn't be the same person anymore. The look in his uncle's eyes was something feral. If he can't change the way that Castiel is, then he'll keep him stuffed away for the rest of his life, never able to see his friends or his sister - or even Dean - ever again. That's what they do to abominations after all; they hide them away from the rest of the world.

"I'd like to go back to my room now," He whispers, fixing his gaze on the ground; he's afraid that if he sees the pity in Bobby's eyes, he won't be able to stop the tears from falling.

And with that, he twists his hands in the baggy sleeves of his coat and walks out the room, not even waiting for Bobby's reply. All he wants to do right now is lie down, maybe scream into his pillow for a few minutes, and drift off into a dreamless slumber. He wants to feel like the wind stroking the sky - weightless, invisible, _empty_.

* * *

He's not sure how long he lies face down on his bed, concealed underneath a heap of blankets and pillows, but the room is cast in darkness when he finally looks up. It's the knocking on the door that gets his attention. The raps are quick and frenzied, followed by an impatient huff on the other side. Castiel sits up with a groan and tosses a pillow at the door. It's a childish move, yes, but he's really not in the mood for one of Bobby's pep talks.

"Just leave me alone!"

"Cas?" Dean's voice calls out softly, making Castiel's heart lurch. "Cas, baby… Let me in, will ya? I just wanna talk."

Castiel grips the sheets beneath his fingers for a moment, then slides off the edge of the bed and opens the door. Dean is leaning on the frame with one arm, the other raised in mid-knock. A smile instantly breaks across his face when their eyes meet.

"Jesus Christ, Cas… I was startin' to think you'd done somethin' stupid!"

"Of course not. Why would you say that?"

"You never know," Dean edges his way inside, letting Castiel close the door behind him. "You didn't text me, and then Bobby said you were actin' all _freaky_ …"

"I was not acting 'freaky'. I just wanted to be alone."

Dean stuffs his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and frowns. "Why? Did your uncle say somethin' to you?"

Castiel almost laughs at that. "I… guess you could say that, yes. But it's really not important anymore. You may as well go home, Dean. I'm not going to be good company tonight."

"Are you kiddin' me?"

"Look, I'm _sorry_ you came all the way here for nothing, but -"

"That's not what I mean, you idiot," Dean steps forward and takes his hands. The sleeves of his trenchcoat are hiding the bruises well, but Castiel still squirms at the touch. "You just saw your uncle - a guy you more or less _hate_ \- and now you just want me to leave you alone? Nuh-uh. No way, Cas. Not gonna happen."

"Dean -"

"I'm stayin', Cas. End of story."

Castiel's not sure what happens, but standing there, staring into Dean's eyes - full of care and concern - just _breaks_ him. He takes a strangled breath and practically hurls himself into Dean's arms, nuzzling his face against leather and plaid and scratchy cheeks. He inhales the smell of cigarette smoke and woodchips, pressing his lips against the base of Dean's neck. His face is wet with tears, but Dean is rubbing circles into his back and whispering against his ear, and Castiel has never felt safer before in his life. He holds onto his boyfriend almost desperately, trying to commit every sensation to memory. If Zachariah stays true to his word, then he and Dean may only have a handful of moments like this left to share.

"I'm sorry," He pulls back, embarrassed, and wipes his eyes discreetly. "I… I'm not sure why I'm acting like this. I knew what to expect, but…"

"He was a total ass?"

Castiel huffs a watery laugh. "Pretty much, yeah."

"Thought so," Dean smiles softly, catching a few stray tears with the pad of his thumb. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Oh, it's the same old thing. He thinks I'm an 'abomination' for liking boys, and that bringing Anna to visit me might put her in some kind of danger. And apparently I'm like my dad, which can't be a good thing."

Dean's hands slip down to his hips. "You're not an abomination, alright? And who the hell even _uses_ words like that anymore?"

"People who think that hiding behind their vocabulary makes them stronger."

"So _assholes_ , basically?"

"Yes," Castiel chuckles and sniffs. It's a strange combination. "And… Well, don't _panic_ , but… I think he suspected something."

"Like what?"

"He accused me of 'lying with another man'."

Dean snorts. "Seriously? This guy gives the bible a bad name."

"He doesn't even deserve to call himself a Christian. He's an extremist - nothing more."

"And what about you, huh? You into all that God stuff?"

Castiel shrugs a little. "I don't know… I'd like to believe that someone is watching over us, but sometimes…"

"You wonder if the guy even gives a fuck about us?"

"I suppose that's one way of putting it."

"Even if there is a God," Dean says, threading their fingers together. "Who cares what he thinks about us? I mean, if the ruler of heaven is a homophobe, then I guess I'd rather go to hell."

Castiel laughs. "You'd rather burn for eternity?"

"Than dick around pretendin' to be someone I'm not? Hell yeah! No pun intended."

"Well, I suppose I'll be joining you."

"So at least we'll be together when they start stickin' hot pokers up our asses."

"You have quite a way with words, do you know that?"

Dean grins. "S'one of my _many_ talents."

Castiel's shoulders sag. "I'm really sorry, Dean. For burdening you with all of this…"

"Shaddup, Cas," Dean kisses his knuckles, chuckling softly. "You gotta stop sayin' sorry all the damn time. I _want_ to listen to your crappy problems, alright? You actually get _really_ hot when you're angry."

Castiel just stares at him for a few seconds - one, two, three - and then it's like something _awakens_ in him, and he's suddenly grabbing Dean by the collar and pulling him in for a kiss. It's more heated than usual; the first touch of tongues rouses a muffled groan out of Dean, who's hands are busy roaming over Castiel's body in a confused state of pleasure. Castiel snakes his arms around Dean's waist and pulls him forward by their hips, pressing them dangerously close together. He can already feel Dean hardening against him, and the heat pooling in his groin is a sure indicator that he's not far off himself.

"Cas," Dean gasps between kisses. "Cas, baby… Wha -"

"Just touch me, goddamit."

"But -"

"I want to feel you," Castiel murmurs against damp, sticky skin. "I want… I-I want -"

"Cas, we don't -"

"We _do_ ," He growls, pulling just inches away to look into Dean's eyes. "I want this, Dean. I want _you_. And if you feel the same way, then -"

Dean cuts him off with another kiss, sending them both flying onto the bed behind them. Castiel hits the mattress with an _oof_ , and then Dean falls on top, his arms spread in an arch above his head. He's grinning - cheeks rosy - and the glint in his eyes makes the shade just a touch lighter. Castiel's never seen anything more beautiful before in his life.

"You're blushin'," Dean murmurs. " _Fuck_ , you're adorable…"

Castiel rolls his eyes and flips their positions. Hovering over Dean's body - those wide, green eyes looking up at him in awe - sends a tiny thrill of excitement down his spine. Pinning down such a large guy (Dean's got a couple of inches on him at least) gives him a sense of control, a sense of _dominance_. It's something he's never experienced before, and it scares him how much he's enjoying it. Surely it's wrong to find pleasure in taking control of your partner? He doesn't want to hurt Dean - of course he doesn't - but sitting on top of him like this makes him feel almost _safe_ in a way, knowing that he's the one calling the shots. He actually has no idea what to do at this point, but it still feels good.

"You look lost," Dean brings a hand up to his cheek.

Castiel swallows thickly. "Have you ever… I mean, um… This is my first time. I-I don't… I'm not sure how to…"

"Hey," Dean strokes his cheek, smiling lazily, and sits up slightly. "It's nothin' to be afraid about, Cas. Havin' sex, it's… it's _natural_ , ya know?"

"But have you ever done it before?"

"I've fooled around," Dean admits with a shrug. "Only been with one guy, but it was nothin' serious."

Castiel deflates in disappointment. Of course, he knew the likelihood of someone like Dean being a virgin was, well… _unlikely_. But a part of him hoped that maybe they could be each other's firsts. He hates always being the odd one out, the one who has to be taught and _babied_. He feels sorry for Dean, endlessly guiding him on things that most teenage boys should probably already know by now. But of course, 'how to have gay sex' wasn't exactly high on the list of life lessons Zachariah taught him growing up.

"None of that matters though," Dean brings their chests flush together, Castiel still sitting in his lap, and takes a shaky breath. "Only this does."

The croak in Dean's voice is enough to make Castiel melt. He tangles his fingers in the short strands of hair at the nape of Dean's neck, bringing him in for a hungry kiss, and lowers their bodies to the mattress. Castiel is _painfully_ hard at this point. He can himself straining against his boxers, rubbing against Dean's thigh with every frenzied movement. He doesn't even think to be embarrassed about the fact that he's practically humping Dean's leg; the pleasure is like a blindfold over his senses, surrounding him in a bubble of pure bliss. All that exists is him and Dean and the bed beneath them.

"Cas," Dean moans, bucking his hips up unconsciously. "Cas, baby…"

Castiel responds by grounding down even harder. He's rewarded with a spike of pleasure, and another moan from Dean. Seeing him writhing beneath him - all sweaty and red-faced with arousal - is already pushing him close to the edge.

When Dean goes to unbutton his shirt, Castiel stills his hands with a shake of his head. He doesn't want to risk Dean finding the bruises on his wrists; this moment is just too perfect to waste like that. So instead, he drags his fingers slowly down Dean's stomach until he reaches his jeans, pausing for a moment to get Dean flustered. He's well aware that his own face is on fire right now (trying to act all _sexy_ is kind of making him feel ridiculous), but Dean's lustful expression is more than worth it. He can genuinely hear his own heartbeat as he begins to unbuckle Dean's belt, his fingers fumbling and shaking like a real amateur. But Dean doesn't seem to care; he's watching Castiel with bright eyes and parted lips, like he's witnessing something truly amazing.

"Are you sure?" Dean asks one last time, his voice thick with emotion.

Castiel presses a kiss against his lips and slides a hand down his bare thigh. "I'm sure."

The first touch feels weird; he rarely does this to _himself_ , so doing it to someone else seems wrong in a way, but oh so right in another. A little gasp escapes Dean's lips, and he instinctively shifts his body as Castiel wraps his hand around him. He feels hot and heavy in his grasp. It's not as _wet_ as he thought it would be… for some reason he thought it would be wet. He's poorly educated in this department, in all fairness.

"God, Cas," Dean licks his lips.

Castiel takes this as a good sign and slowly begins to pump his hand up and down. He imagines milking a cow, which is wrong on so many levels. Why on earth does he have to be so awkward about these sorts of things? Why can't he talk dirty and make Dean blush? Why can't he strip naked without having to worry about stupid scars and stupid bruises? Why can't he attack Dean with tongue and teeth without turning into a tomato? Why can't he - Woah! Wait a minute… Is that what he thinks it is? Is that… Is that Dean's _hand_ on his…? Oh, dear lord. Oh, sweet mother of Mary. Oh, _Jesus_..."

"Yes, Dean. A-Ah, yes," Castiel shudders when Dean flips them over again, taking them both in one hand, and crashes their lips together. The combined sensations of Dean's mouth against his, and their cocks (oh, he feels awkward even _thinking_ about that word) sliding up against each other is enough to have him panting in seconds.

"Close," Dean moans against his lips. "Oh, _fuck_ , Cas… I'm so close, baby…"

Castiel is too far gone to form a coherent sentence; all he can manage is a series of gasps and grunts that make him sound like an animal more than anything.

And then Dean is gathering pre-cum with a twist of his hand, lubricating each new thrust, and Castiel can feel the first coils of pleasure beginning to tighten inside of him. He clutches at something - Dean's shoulder blades - and holds on tight, his vision going blurry as Dean's mouth drops open and his brow begins to furrow.

"Cas, I'm gonna… gonna… Ah!"

Dean comes between them with a gasp, his hand speeding up for the briefest of moments before stilling like a broken record. Just the look of pleasure on Dean's face as he finally lets go is enough to push Castiel over the final hurdle. He expected to feel ashamed about coming on another person (because yeah, that's kind of unsanitary), but instead, a smile touches his lips and a dizzy sort of relief clouds his mind.

"Oh my," He breathes as he slowly comes down from his high.

Dean chokes a laugh, his hand shaking as he pulls away and rolls onto the bed. "Yeah, that was… Jesus fuckin' Christ, Cas, I can't… Holy _shit_ , you were amazin'."

"I hardly did anything," Castiel blushes, though he's still too lost in his personal bubble of pleasure to care much.

"What about you? Did you… I mean, was it good?"

Castiel laughs. "Well, I don't have much to compare it to… But yes, Dean. You were great."

Dean chuckles for a moment, but then his expression turns serious. "That was real, right? You weren't just tryin' to make a point to your uncle or somethin'?"

"Of course not," Castiel takes his hands; they're shaking. _All_ of him shaking. "Dean, are you… Are you alright?"

"Yeah, Cas, I'm fine."

"But you're -"

"I think you're amazin'," Dean suddenly blurts out, his jaw trembling as he tightens his grip on Castiel's hands. "And I think your uncle is a dumb sonofabitch if he can't realize how frickin' awesome his nephew is. He doesn't deserve you, Cas. _No one_ does…"

Castiel bites back a grin and kisses Dean's forehead. "I know someone who does."

"But I'm not -"

"You're the best man I've ever know," Castiel whispers. " _And_ you're my best friend. So don't you ever think any less of yourself, Dean Winchester… because you saved me."

They lie there for a long while, just staring into each other's eyes. Castiel hardly notices Dean disappearing to the bathroom to fetch a warm cloth, wiping their bodies down before crawling back into bed; it's like he's in a dream. Their fingers are still entwined as they start to fall asleep, their warm breath fluttering between them like butterfly wings. Castiel tries to keep his eyes open for as long as possible, if only to watch Dean for just a little while longer… But all of the drama from today, paired with the warmth of Dean's body close to his, soon lulls him into the deepest of sleeps. He dreams about cotton candy and german shepherds and hypoallergenic cats, and a little lemon house overlooking the street, with a front porch and a bench swing, and a warm, freckled hand resting in his own.


	15. Chapter 15

**Sorry for the late chapter, guys! Things have been busy at home lately. Anyway... I hope you enjoy it! Please, please, please leave a review if you can. Your feedback is awesome! Thank you**

* * *

When Castiel first wakes up, he's aware of two things: _one_ , his face is warm, and _two_ , he's not alone. Dean is murmuring in his sleep beside him, his eyebrows knitted together as he mumbles something about a pigeon trying to steal his pie. Castiel simply smiles and brushes his fingers against his boyfriend's cheek. Dean's face evens out at the small touch, smacking his lips together as he tightens his arms around Castiel's waist. There's sunlight spilling through the window, the source of the gentle heat caressing his skin. They haven't had proper sunshine for such a long time that Castiel was starting to forget what being warm even felt like.

In a bid to get up without waking Dean, Castiel peels back the covers as quietly as he can and slips off the edge of the bed. He almost makes it to the bathroom before something tugs at the waistband of his jeans, pulling him backwards.

"Hey," Dean grumbles, blinking back the sunlight. "Where you goin'?"

Castiel smiles. "Just to the toilet."

"Can't you hold it for a sec?"

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Just c'mere," Dean tugs a little harder, until Castiel's knees bump against the bed. "I wanna tell ya somethin' important…"

Castiel chuckles. "Dean, you're half asleep."

"Am not."

"You can barely keep your eyes open, let alone speak," He huffs fondly. "I'll be right back, don't worry."

Dean tries to hold on, but Castiel carefully unlatches his fingers and steps into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. It feels strange looking at himself in the mirror now; he doesn't recognise the slightly blurred reflection staring back at him. Being with Dean last night was amazing - _incredible_ \- but now everything feels… different, like their relationship will never be quite the same ever again.

Splashing cold water onto his face seems to do the trick. A pleasant shiver snaps him out of his thoughts, clearing his mind of any pointless doubts about the future. He doesn't want another day of constant worrying; he wants to go back to bed with his boyfriend and forget about everything else. And who says that change has to be a bad thing anyway? He's been craving for some kind of normalcy with Dean this whole time, and maybe this is their chance. Once you've given your trust to someone like that, you form an unbreakable bond. He's just glad that Dean was the one person to finally break down those walls.

Dean is fast asleep again by the time he's finished. Castiel is tempted to leave him like that, snoring softly into his pillow, but he's also painfully aware that it's only a matter of time before someone figures out where Dean is (or more importantly, _who_ he's with).

"Hey," He says softly, crouching down to shake Dean's shoulder. "Hey, Dean… You need to wake up, okay?"

Dean scrunches his nose. "Huh?"

"You need to get up."

"I don't wanna."

"Well, I'm afraid you've got to," Castiel chuckles despite himself. "Before Mary comes looking for you and punishes us _both_ for breaking the rules."

Dean burrows his face deeper into his pillow, then finally flips over with a sigh. His shirt has ridden up past his hips, and Castiel has to refrain from reaching out to touch. Being intimate with Dean seems to have unleashed a new kind of hunger inside of him; the urge to pin Dean down and kiss him breathless is much stronger than it usually is - almost _unbearable_.

"Mornin', sunshine," Dean grins wearily. "You wanna come and wake me up properly?"

Castiel gulps. "Please, don't make this difficult…"

"What? I'm not doin' anythin'," Dean says, slowly spreading his legs further apart. It's all Castiel can do to keep from pouncing on the stupid, gorgeous boy with his stupid, gorgeous bowlegs and his stupid, gorgeous bellybutton (yes, he has a weird thing for navels - don't judge). Why on earth did he choose to be with someone so irresistible? Or then again, maybe that question is self-explanatory…

"Please, Dean! You know you're not supposed to be here."

Dean rolls his eyes and grabs Castiel by the arm, pulling him onto the bed. "We finally tell everyone the truth and you _still_ wanna sneak around? C'mon, Cas…"

"That's entirely different!"

"Nope. I don't think it is. I think you're _scared_."

Castiel scoffs. "Of what exactly?"

Dean waggles his eyebrows, and then Castiel feels a hand cupping him down below. He almost falls off the end of the bed in his surprise, but then Dean starts massaging him gently, and his mind starts to go fuzzy. He's not sure whether he should be offended, or aroused. Well, he's _definitely_ aroused, but even so.

"D-Dean! Don't… Don't do that… Ugh, Dean… Stop it!"

"What's the magic word?"

An involuntarily moan passes his lips. "Oh, god, Dean… P-Please! Please - Ah! Dean, stop…"

"Okay then," Dean pulls his hand away smugly. "All you had to do was ask _nicely_."

Castiel growls. Without Dean's touch, he suddenly feels cold and empty. The assbutt knew _exactly_ what he was doing. Now he's semi-hard, sitting in between Dean's legs, not having a clue what to do or say next. If he gives in (like the weak-willed fool that he is) then Dean will be getting his way, and they'll most likely get into serious trouble. But if he kicks Dean out, he'll achieve nothing but 'blue balls' as they say. Plus, he and Dean should probably talk about everything before parting ways; kicking him out to could lead to unnecessary awkwardness he'd much rather avoid if possible.

"So, I'm just gonna go," Dean moves to get up. "I mean, if you don't _want_ me to stay, then I may as well leave…"

Before he can stand up, Castiel grabs his face and crushes their lips together. Who cares if that makes him weak-willed? Who cares if they should talk about what happened before doing it again? Who cares about _anything_? Only an idiot would let Dean Winchester climb out of their window and walk away.

"Second thoughts?" Dean grins against his mouth.

Castiel shoves him against the mattress and straddles his thigh. "Shut up and kiss me."

The next five minutes is a blur of lips and teeth and hands and moans and friction. Castiel can't seem to stop himself from kissing along Dean's neck, pausing now and again to suck bruising marks against his flesh. He's never given anyone a love bite before, but he finds the experience _thrilling_ in a way, as if he knows he shouldn't be doing it, but still can't resist. Dean hisses and groans with every drag of teeth against skin, twisting his fingers in Castiel's hair to pull him closer. He can feel himself hardening to the max as Dean bucks up beneath him; every frenzied movement results in more pressure, which results in more _pleasure_ , which results in more animalistic noises that Castiel will probably be embarrassed about afterwards.

"Cas," Dean says on the cusp of a sigh. "Feels so good…"

All Castiel can do is bite down on Dean's shoulder, if only to stifle the moans caught in the back of his throat. He's quickly approaching the edge - for the second time in less than 24 hours - which is most definitely a first for him. He just wants to go deeper and deeper, until all that surrounds him is the feel of Dean's body moving against his own. He's never felt like this before, never felt so _connected_ to someone. It's amazing and surreal and _terrifying_ all at once.

And then Dean reaches for his hands, and Castiel is hit with a dull ache of pain shooting up his wrists. He flinches back from the touch, cradling his injured flesh, and scoots to the opposite end of the bed. Dean looks like he's been slapped.

"Cas, hey! What's wrong? Did I hurt you?!"

Castiel shakes his head. "No! No, of course you didn't! I just… I-I fell on my wrist yesterday, and it's still a little bit tender, so -"

"Lemme see that."

"Dean, don't -"

"Let me see your wrists, Cas!"

The forceful tone of his voice startles Castiel. Dean is staring at him, hand outstretched, panting slightly as he waits for Castiel to respond. The look on his face is one of angry concern, if that's even a thing. Castiel doesn't have much choice but to show him.

"It's not what it looks like," He says as Dean carefully rolls down the sleeves of his sweater, revealing the matching bands of dark purple circling his wrists. The bruises clearly outline the shape of fingers - a painful reminder of Zachariah's hands squeezing him tightly - but Castiel refuses to let Dean find out about that, about _him_.

"Cas," Dean swallows thickly. "How did you…?"

"I told you: I fell on it."

"Why're you lyin' to me, man?"

"I'm _not_ -"

"Who did this?" Dean gently traces the bruises with the pad of his thumb. "It wasn't… Oh, Christ, Cas. Tell me it wasn't -"

"Please, Dean. It's really not what you think!"

Something flashes in Dean's eyes - something dark and livid. Castiel can see the muscles in his jaw tighten as he turns his hands over, carefully linking their fingers together. Dean's body is shaking with anger, his throat rippling as he goes to speak.

"I'm gonna kill him," He says, eerily calm. "I'm gonna find that twisted sonofabitch, and I'm gonna kill him."

Castiel's breathing stutters. "What? Dean, no! No, it's not -"

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me? _God_ , Cas! I could've… I-I could've _done_ something! _Helped_ you!" Dean's voice cracks, and Castiel suddenly notices the unshed tears in his eyes. "Cas, I'm so… I'm so sorry, baby. I should've seen the signs, I should've noticed -"

" _Dean_ ," Castiel touches his face, stopping him mid-rant. He can't bear to see Dean blame himself like this. He won't let him. "It was Gabe. I swear to you, it was just Gabe."

Dean furrows his brow. "What? That doesn't… Why the hell would Gabe -"

"We were messing around. It was stupid," He forces a smile, trying to brush the whole thing off as a simple misunderstanding. "I was… I-I was keeping the last candy bar away from him, and you know how he gets with his junk food. We were, um… We were just wrestling on the ground, and it got out of hand. He was very sorry, Dean. I promise you, he was."

Dean looks conflicted. An array of emotions flicker over his face - first confusion, then doubt, then relief, then anger, then _more_ relief… Castiel wishes he could wipe the slate clean, see that gorgeous smile again. But there's still something stuck in Dean's mind, preventing him from accepting his story. He's still holding one of Castiel's hands, the other touching the one pressed against his cheek, as if he's trying to protect him. He still has that wild fury in his eyes, like he's about to attack anyone who enters the room. He's still not _convinced_.

"Gabe did this?"

"Yes, Dean."

"Gabe. _Our_ Gabe. Candy-scoffin' _midget_ Gabe?" Dean looks sceptical. " _He_ did this?"

Castiel moves a little closer to Dean. "I'm telling you the truth."

"Really? 'cause it sure doesn't sound like that to me."

"Well… Ask Gabe!" Castiel blurts without thinking. "Ask him what happened. _He'll_ tell you everything."

Dean holds their joined hands in his lap. "I don't believe you, Cas. I'm sorry, but I don't."

"Dean, I _promise_ you -"

"How the hell could it be a frickin' _accident_ , huh? There's no way Gabe could've done that you, Cas! Why won't you just tell me the truth?!"

"I _am_ telling you the truth!"

"Cas, baby," Dean cups his face gently, sweeping his thumbs over his cheekbones. "I'm not gonna let anythin' happen to you, okay? You can tell me. You can tell me _anything_. I… I won't let that bastard touch you again, ya hear me?"

Castiel bites back a sob, resisting the urge to give in, and stares Dean straight in the face. "It was Gabe. I don't know what else you want me to say."

Dean's face crumples, and Castiel can see the betrayal in his expression plain as day. He doesn't think he trusts him, thinks that he's hiding some big secret from him… And it's true. That's the worst part about it. It's all _true_. Of course, he knows Dean would never hurt him; he knows he's a good person, and he trusts him in that respect. But there's still that niggling voice in the back of his head, telling him that one day, Dean will walk away. He doesn't _trust_ that he'll stay. And why the hell would he _want_ to anyway? Who could possibly _want_ to stick around and care for a worthless, broken mess like him? It's not fair to dump that responsibility on anyone.

"I'm gonna look after you," Dean suddenly whispers, shooting a hole in all of his stupid paranoias. "You… You don't wanna tell me what happened… I get it, Cas. You're scared. Who wouldn't be, right? But even if you can't come out 'n say it… that's okay. I _know_ , baby. I know what's goin' on now, and I - I won't let it happen again."

Castiel flits his eyes over Dean's face, searching for some flicker of deceit. But he finds nothing but sincerity. Dean _means_ what he says, and that's quite possibility the most surreal thing he's ever come to realize… Somebody actually _wants_ him.

"Why are you still here?" He asks in awe. "I mean, why do you still care?"

Dean's lips part slightly, as if he wants to say something but can't quite get the words out. Castiel absently leans into the hands still holding his face, brushing his one cheek against the rough skin of Dean's palm. They're both flushed, both _speechless_. Castiel just looks into Dean's eyes and silently wills him to say what's on his mind.

"Before," Dean closes his eyes, jaw trembling slightly. "I wanted to… I-I was gonna _tell_ you somethin' important, remember?"

"Yes, Dean."

"But then you left and I… I was so ready to _say_ it, Cas, and now - now I just…"

"It's okay," Castiel squeezes his hands, urging his eyes open. "You don't have to say anything you don't want to say."

Dean shakes head. "No, Cas. This is really important."

"Why? There's nothing… there's nothing _wrong_ is there?"

"No! No that's not - I don't mean it like that," Dean seems frustrated. "I dunno why, I just can't get the damn words out!"

Castiel's starting to panic now. "Dean, if you're having second thoughts about us, then -"

"What? No, you idiot! It's nothin' like that, I just -"

" _Dean Winchester_!"

The booming voice coming from the corridor makes them both jump. It's Mary calling Dean's name, but Castiel has never heard her raise her voice like that; she sounds truly terrifying. The colour drains from Dean's face for a split second, and then he's leaping off the side of the bed and skidding across the floor.

"Oh, crap!"

"Don't think I can't hear you," Mary says on the other side of the door. Castiel can actually _hear_ the eye-roll in her voice. "Open up before I kick this door down!"

"Is she serious?" Castiel hisses.

Dean is too busy searching for his shoes to answer.

"Okay, that's it! You boys better be decent because I'm comin' in!"

Castiel quickly throws the covers over himself (even after their untimely interruption, Castiel still has a bit of a predicament downstairs, if you know what I mean). Mary doesn't exactly kick the door down, but she does find herself a key and lets herself in. Castiel's considered a low risk, which means locking the door is something he's trusted to do. But there's no way Bobby's still going to grant him that luxury after today.

Dean, having given up on his shoes, is just slipping into the bathroom by the time Mary comes in with a stormy look on her face. Castiel instantly feels like a small child who's about to get told off by his momma.

"Where is he, Castiel?"

"I… I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're a terrible liar," Mary folds her arms like a disappointed teacher. "He didn't come down for breakfast this mornin', and no one saw him last night."

"I -"

"And I'm pretty sure you weren't having conversation with _yourself_ just now, were you?"

Castiel shrugs meekly. "Well, it would make sense considering where we are."

"That's not funny," Mary sighs, but Castiel can see that she's struggling not to smile. "Look, I already know he's here… Just make it easier on yourselves and come clean."

Castiel sucks in a breath, then casts his eyes to the bathroom door, shoulders sagging. "Please don't be too harsh on him."

"I know what happened yesterday," Mary says gently. "I understand why he came over, don't worry."

Dean yelps a little bit when Mary throws the door open. Through the open crack, Castiel can see that he's halfway through pulling his jeans on, and his hair is an absolute mess. He still looks absolutely adorable to him, but you know what they say about rose-tinted glasses. Mary simply sighs and turns away, giving Dean a chance to change before dragging him back through the door and into the bedroom.

"Uh, I can explain," Dean says with a nervous smile. "We were just, um… I was helpin' Cas with somethin' _really_ important, and I -"

"It's fine, Dean. I don't mind," Mary pats him on the shoulder, her expression caught between tired and sympathetic. "But this is the last time, okay? You can't start breaking the rules willy-nilly."

"You're not pissed?"

"Language," Mary sighs. "And no, I'm not… _angry_. It's been a tough couple of days for Castiel. I get that."

Dean slowly creeps to Castiel's side. "So, I can stay?"

"What day is it again?"

"Uh, Thursday?"

"Which means you've got school," Mary pulls him away from the bed. "That's right, mister. I know about you skipping classes lately."

"But I -"

"So don't even _think_ about charming your way out of this one. You're going and that's that."

Dean rolls his eyes, then nods his head at Castiel. "Well, can I at least say goodbye?"

"Sure you can. But hurry up: Castiel's got to meet his new counsellor."

"My new what?"

"You heard me. Today's the day."

When Mary steps outside to give them some privacy, Castiel quickly latches onto Dean's arm. He doesn't want to leave things this way, with Dean thinking he doesn't trust him. He knew that his uncle was bound to mess everything up one way or another.

"I'm sorry," He murmurs. "I know you don't believe me about Zachariah, but I promise you, I'm fine."

"He's an abusive ass, for Christ's sake!"

"It wasn't him, okay?"

Dean's face softens as he leans forward to press a kiss against Castiel's forehead. "I know you don't wanna talk about it, Cas. I told you: I get it. Just don't… don't shut me out, okay? And don't give me any crap about your uncle bein' a good guy. I'm not lettin' you go back to him, ya hear me? I'm gonna protect you."

"I don't need protecting. I've looked after myself my whole life."

"Well, now you don't have to."

Castiel squeezes Dean's arm, smiling softly. Maybe Dean knowing the truth won't be such a bad thing. Maybe it's for the best. It's not like he's going to come out and admit what happened yesterday, but there's no harm in Dean figuring it out for himself. It'll be like an unspoken understanding. No more lies, but… no more _change_ either.

"What did you want to tell me anyway?" He suddenly asks. "Before, you were going to say something 'important'."

Dean purses his lips, glancing at the door before plastering on a smile and shrugging. "Nah, it doesn't matter anymore. Wrong place, wrong time."

Castiel goes to push him further, but then Mary comes back inside and claps her hands together. "C'mon, Dean. I don't want to deal with Miss. Barnes on the phone again. That lady's got quite the mouth on her."

"Yeah, well, so do _you_ when you get goin'."

"Watch it," Mary points a daring finger at Dean, but her eyes are twinkling with mirth. "Castiel's got a counsellor to meet."

Dean kisses his knuckles one last time before getting to his feet. The look on his face mirrors exactly what Castiel is feeling. Watching him leave is always unbearable.

"I'll come back after school, alright?"

"What time?"

"Just after three probably."

Castiel's stomach drops, but he somehow manages a smile. "I'm sure I can wait that long."

"I doubt it. My charms are kind of addictive."

"Really? Can't say I've noticed."

"Quit flirting," Mary pushes Dean away with a gentle shove. " _You_ go to school, and _you_ come with me. Come on, get!"

"Okay, okay… Geez!"

"Don't you 'geez' me, Dean Winchester."

"Sorry, mom."

Castiel can't help but smile at that. Dean is unfairly cute when he's being told off.

"I'll see you later, Cas," Dean says, bending down to give him a quick kiss (despite Mary's frustrated foot-tapping).

"Okay. Bye, Dean."

Once Dean's finally retrieved his shoes from under the bed and disappeared down the hall, Mary gives Castiel some privacy to get changed. His trenchcoat is strewn on the floor where he left it after Zachariah's visit; the very sight of it makes him feel sick. In the end, he opts for something comfortable - a pair of jeans and a soft, baggy sweater the colour of Dean's eyes. Well, almost… no shade could ever compare to those.

"You ready?" Mary smiles as he steps out into the corridor, closing the door behind him.

Castiel shrugs. "Not really, but oh well."

"There's no need to worry. He's a nice guy, really. A little, um… _forward_ at times, but he's a wonderful counsellor. You'll do great together."

Castiel's mind is still stuck on the word 'he'. After Zachariah's little performance yesterday, he's not sure how he's going to handle being alone with a grown man for an hour every week. It's not really fair to judge all men based on one asshole, he knows, but he can't help associating them with his awful upbringing. If only they were all like Bobby.

"What do you mean by forward?" He asks.

"Oh, his filter's just a bit off," Mary chuckles, giving him a reassuring smile. "Just don't take anything he says the wrong way. He can come off as crude sometimes."

"And what if I don't like him? What if we don't get along?"

"Then you tell either me or Bobby, and we'll find you someone else."

"I thought you're not allowed to be involved?"

Mary laughs. "Well, call it a professional curiosity if you like. I just want to make sure you're getting the best care you can get."

"What? Because of Dean?"

"No, Castiel," Mary places a hand on his shoulder. "Because of _you_. Believe it or not, but I think you're a great kid."

Something warm unfurls in Castiel's chest. He's too occupied by the strange, fuzzy feeling to notice that they're already standing outside of the office. _His new counsellor's office_. Castiel shrinks away from the door instinctively, his nails ghosting his palms, ready to dig in if anything goes wrong.

"Deep breaths," Mary pats him gently. "You'll be fine, Castiel."

"Yeah," He nods his head, swallowing thickly. "Yeah, of course… It'll be okay."

"Exactly."

Castiel takes a breath, giving Mary one last nod, and then opens the door. There's some weird disco music playing from inside the room, and the scent of coffee is rich in the air. Mary simply gives him a thumbs up, still smiling, and ushers him inside.

* * *

Ten minutes in, and Castiel already wants to punch this guy in the face. Everything about him is obnoxious - from his thick British accent, to his plunging V-neck shirt, to his permanently smug expression. Even his _name_ is obnoxious. _Balthazar_. Really? Castiel thought that being named after an angel was bad, but one of the Three Wise Men? Now, that's just pushing it. His parents clearly had high hopes for him.

"So," Balthazar says in a breathy, 'I'd rather be somewhere else' kind of tone. " _Cassy_. Do you mind if I call you Cassy? Only, the whole three syllable thing is a bit of a mouthful. I speak from experience you see."

Castiel clenches his jaw. "Only my friends call me Cassy."

"Well, I'm sure we'll be pals soon enough."

"What makes you so sure?"

"They're paying me a lot of dosh," Balthazar says with a quirk of a smile. "So, yes. I'm going to do everything within my power to make sure we bloody get along."

Castiel scoffs. "Is that really why you're doing this? For the money?"

"Oh, but of course. Didn't they tell you I'm an ass?"

"They may have hinted at it."

"How lovely," Balthazar rolls his eyes. "I was just kidding around actually, but thanks for reassuring me that my colleagues despise me."

"Oh, um… I didn't -"

"Couldn't give a rat's arse if I'm being honest with you, Cassy. Let's just get to the juicy stuff."

Castiel squirms in his seat. There's only one armchair in this office, and the pillow isn't as comfortable as the one in Mary's room. "What's the juicy stuff?"

"You know. The tasty little details. How did you end up here? What's hospital life been like so far? Do you feel like hanging yourself from the ceiling fan yet? Just a general peek into your messed up little mind," Balthazar waves a hand in the air. "Of course, I meant that as _compliment_. All the best minds are a little wonky."

Castiel clears his throat. "Are you really qualified to be a counsellor?"

"Honestly? They just dragged me in off the street. You don't have any spare change by any chance, do you?"

"I'm being serious," Castiel narrows his eyes, trying his best to look intimidating. "You're nothing like my previous counsellor."

"Oh, let me guess. You held hands and sang Kumbaya? Sorry, lad, but that's not quite my style."

"She made me keep a diary."

Balthazar snorts. "Oh, _dear_. That's bloody awful, isn't it? Please tell me you refused."

"It helped… a bit. I mean, I haven't used it much but -"

"Scrap the diary. We're not doing that."

"Do I have any choice?"

"Go on then. Would you _like_ to keep scribbling your private thoughts down?"

Castiel opens his mouth, then draws a blank. He's kind of right.

"Exactly. Now! Tell me, Cassy. What prompted this little switcheroo in the first place, hm? Did you murder your last counsellor or something?"

"What? Of course not, I -" Castiel stops, not entirely comfortable with telling Balthazar his life story. "Actually, I… I started dating her son. Apparently that's unethical."

Balthazar grins. "Well, you just got more interesting."

"Thank you?"

"I prefer the softer breed of human, I have to say, but I'm open-minded. Is he a hunk?"

"Did you really just ask me that?"

"I'm sorry. I'll speak up a bit… IS HE A HUNK? Did you get that?"

Castiel flares his nostrils. "Are you always like this?"

"Fantastic? Oh, yes."

"I don't think this is going to work out."

Balthazar's cocky smirk slowly fades into something more genuine. "Okay, I'll be honest with you. It's no coincidence that you ended up with me."

"What do you mean?"

"I asked for you."

"What? Why would you -"

"Because I have a special kind of hatred for people like your uncle," Balthazar leans against his desk, crossing one leg over the other. "Let's call it a personal issue. Either way, men who find some cheap thrill in putting others down - especially their own flesh and blood - deserve the worst kind of torture. Do you know what that is?"

Castiel swallows. "Please tell me it's legal."

"Unfortunately, yes. The messy stuff doesn't go down too well in places like these," Balthazar sounds genuinely disappointed by that. "No, the worse form of torture for people like that is simply nothing."

"I don't understand."

"Abusers feed off power. They feed off _your_ fear. They're crazy for it, the dirty little bastards."

"So…"

"So, you rob them of that power, that _fear_. You make them feel utterly useless."

"But how do I just turn that off?"

"It's a matter of convincing yourself that you're better," Balthazar says. "And you are better, Cassy. I can see that."

"You don't even know me."

"That's the point. A little mystery makes it all the more enjoyable."

Castiel raises a dubious eyebrow. "You're going to convince me that I'm a better person than my uncle? How?"

"No, you're going to convince _yourself_. I'm just going to give you a little nudge in the right direction. See where I'm going with this?"

"I guess…"

"Good! Because this session's over."

Castiel reluctantly stands up with a frown. "That's it?"

"Were you under the impression that we're supposed to have a cry and hug each other?"

Castiel can't help but laugh. "You remind me of someone. A friend. You're both complete assholes."

"They sound fabulous."

As Castiel is leaving through the door, he catches a glimpse of Balthazar pouring something strong into a metal flask beneath his desk. He doesn't even try to hide it when their eyes meet, simply presses a finger to his lips and shrugs.

"It's for my nerves. They're terrible, you see."

Castiel doesn't say a word, but his mind is already mentally preparing him for a very interesting couple of weeks. There's no way Balthazar will last longer than that.

* * *

Later on, when Castiel's heading back from the kitchen with a mug of coffee, he almost runs straight into Gabe. The hot liquid sloshes over the rim, spilling onto the floor and covering his shoes. Gabe just stands there, looking annoyed.

"Gabe! What -"

"Guess who just spoke to Deano?"

Castiel's blood suddenly runs cold. "What? Where is he? What did he say?"

"He's in the foyer with Charlie. He asked me about the bruises."

"Um…"

"You know, the ones I gave you during some psychotic sugar withdrawal? It must have been pretty intense considering I can't remember it."

Castiel closes his eyes. "Gabe, I can explain -"

"You really take this lying business to another level, don't you? Poor Dean was pissed."

"Does he know?"

"Know what? The _truth_? 'cause I'd like to know that myself."

"Gabe -"

"It was Zachariah, wasn't it?" Gabe looks furious. "That spineless dick actually hurt you, didn't he? Right under our noses!"

"He… He got angry. I provoked him and -"

"Oh, shut the hell up, Cassy! Can you hear yourself? You sound deluded!"

Castiel sighs. "You have no idea what this is like, Gabe. I hate justifying my uncle's actions, but I don't have a choice!"

"Of course you do! Tell Bobby! He'll call the cops, and you and your sister will be saved. It's as easy as that."

"Really? And what about when I turn eighteen and Anna's still in foster care? Who do I turn to then? How do I even _begin_ to fight for custody? I won't have any family left, that's for sure. And I can't ask Bobby for help! I'll be alone, Gabe! _She'll_ be all alone."

"We can figure something out!"

"No we can't!" Castiel cries, his hands shaking with anger. "No one cares about us, Gabe. We're the leftovers that nobody wants."

"That's not true. I have a family back home."

"Well, good for you."

"I mean, people like us still have a chance," Gabe carefully removes the coffee from his hands and places it aside. "Just look at Dean! The boy's completely smitten with you, Cassy. And you're a freak."

Castiel huffs a laugh. "You never fail to make me feel better, Gabe."

"What I'm saying is… Dean's not goin' anywhere anytime soon. I think you should tell him what really happened."

"So, you didn't say anything?"

"Of course I didn't. I'm not a complete dick, ya know! I figured it out pretty quickly and just went along with it. He thinks I pinned you down for Reese's Pieces."

Castiel sighs with relief. A small part of him was hoping that Gabe had told him the truth, just to see how Dean would really react, to see if he'd really stay with him. But knowing that things aren't going to change is like being able to breathe again.

"Oh, thank you, Gabe."

"Don't thank me just yet, kiddo. Dean didn't seem overly convinced."

"I'll make it work."

"You're gonna carry on lying to him?"

"It's for the best, Gabe."

"You're an idiot."

"Maybe so," Castiel stares down at the coffee stain on his shoes. "But I can't risk losing him. It would break me."

Before Gabe can say anything, Dean and Charlie appear around the corner. Even after all these weeks, just seeing Dean is enough to make his heart do flip-flops. He feels instantly calm, especially now that his story about Gabe seems more convincing.

"There he is," Dean says with a grin, ignoring Gabe in favour of pulling Castiel in for a kiss. His hand presses against the small of his back, and his fingers curl in his hair. It's amazing.

"How was school?" He asks, a little breathlessly.

Dean licks his lips and grins. "I kept gettin' distracted."

"Oh, really?"

"Mhm. I couldn't stop thinkin' about this really hot dude I'm seein'. He's frickin' _gorgeous_ , lemme tell ya… He's got this dark hair, and these deep blue eyes that stare straight into your soul. And his dress sense is godawful."

Castiel glances down at his sweater. "This matches the colour of your eyes!"

"If that's really the reason you're wearing that, I'm gonna puke," Gabe wrinkles his nose.

Charlie frowns. "What? I think that's adorable!"

"Yeah, and you're nuts."

"So are you."

"You're a different kind of nuts, Red. I'm the dark, sexy kind of crazy, and you're just plain ol' bananas."

"Well, I'm not gonna argue with that."

While Charlie and Gabe are busy talking amongst themselves, Dean pulls Castiel gently aside. He can tell by the look on his face that this is going to be one of those serious talks. He's instantly dreading it.

"So, I talked to Gabe," Dean says once they're out of hearing range. "And he cleared a few things up for me."

"What did he say?"

"He told me what really happened. Ya know, with the Reese's Pieces and everythin'."

Castiel swallows thickly. "And… what do you think?"

"What do I think about what?"

"Well, I mean… You were adamant that my uncle was behind it."

"Yeah, and you told me the truth. I was just too dumb to actually listen."

Castiel feels a pang of guilt in his chest. "You weren't 'dumb', Dean. You were just trying to look out for me. I appreciate that."

"I really thought it was your uncle," Dean admits. "The way you were actin' after his visit… God, I thought he'd done somethin' to you, Cas. I'm so sorry."

"Please, don't apologise."

"We've gotta trust each other, and I didn't. I can't just move on from that, Cas."

"It's forgotten."

"No, it's not," Dean brushes a lock of hair away from his forehead. "All I'm askin' is for one thing, okay? Just promise me you're alright, that no one's hurtin' you. As long as I know that for sure, then I'll leave it alone."

Castiel flits his eyes over Dean's face. He can still see the faint shadow of doubt; he doesn't actually believe Gabe's story, that much is obvious. But all he's asking for is reassurance. He can give him that, right? It's just a little lie. Unless Zachariah shows up for any surprise visits, the chances of him getting hurt before going back home are pretty slim. Dean just wants to stop worrying all the time. That's fair enough. Castiel can give him that one thing.

"I'm alright," He says with a smile, trailing his fingers up and down the back of Dean's neck. He loves messing with the short strands of hair there. "No one's going to hurt me."

Dean's jaw twitches, but a smile tugs at his mouth. He wraps his arms around Castiel's waist, resting one hand on his hip, and brings their foreheads together. These quiet moments are his absolute favourite - just him and Dean in a bubble of pure contentment. When he closes his eyes and breathes in his scent, he can almost picture their lemon yellow house standing behind his eyelids. He's never wanted anything so badly before in his life.

"Will you at least lemme take a look at your wrists? Put some ice of them or somethin'?"

Castiel chuckles. "I think it's a little too late for that."

"Aw, c'mon. We can do doctor-patient roleplay if you want."

"I find roleplaying highly disturbing."

"You've never seen my Dr. Sexy impression," Dean grins against his mouth, peppering kisses along his neck. "Bet you any money I can change your mind."

"You sound sure of yourself."

"Oh, I am."

Castiel brings their chests flush together, raking his eyes down Dean's body. There's no way he's winning this bet, but who cares? Losing can be fun too.

"Bring it on, Winchester."


	16. Chapter 16

**Yay! Christmas is here! This fic is obviously a little bit behind, hehe ;) And Cas is a real idiot in this chapter, so I apologise. Please leave a review if you can! Your feedback really means a lot**

* * *

Castiel loves Saturdays. At the weekend, Bobby usually goes food shopping (Gabe tends to volunteer as a tagalong for obvious reasons) and ends up cooking an amazing dinner for everyone. Lights out is also pushed back by an hour, which means he gets to spend more time with Charlie and Gabe; they normally create a nest of blankets and pillows, smuggle a few snacks into one of their rooms, and watch a movie together. Basically, Saturdays are peaceful and chilled, with next to no drama getting in the way. But the best part about Saturdays - what really makes him pine for the weekend - is the fact that school is out, and Dean gets to spend the whole day at Opal Grove. See? They're close to perfect! There's just one teensy, tiny thing that ruins a good Saturday…

"Hello? Earth to Cassy? Are you receiving?"

Castiel shakes his head a little, clearing his mind. A hand suddenly comes into focus, and there are fingers snapping right in his face.

"What?" He frowns, swatting Balthazar's hand aside. "What did you say?"

"It's like talking to a bloody brick wall," Balthazar sighs. "Please tell me you're not fantasizing about that boyfriend of yours… I'd rather you not make a mess on the floor."

Castiel rolls his eyes. Yes, the only _bad_ thing about Saturdays is this: his mid-morning sessions with Balthazar. It's been two weeks since Mary introduced him to his new counsellor, and things are still a bit strange. He doesn't really feel comfortable opening up to another person, not after getting so far with Mary. He especially doesn't want to discuss his deepest, darkest thoughts with someone like Balthazar, who seems to spout more sexual innuendos than Gabe. It's like opening up to a child; it's never going to work.

"I'm not thinking about Dean," He grumbles, absently running his fingers over the palms of his hands. The crescent-shaped scabs have finally cleared up, along with the bruises on his wrists; all that remains now is a faint, yellow band, like an ink blot on his skin.

"Oh, sure," Balthazar raises his eyebrows. "It's not as if you think about him 90% of the time."

Castiel shoots him a glare. "I'm sorry. I forgot you could see inside my head."

"Okay, okay. You can tone down the sass, you know."

"Sass? I'm not… Whatever! Can we please just get on with this?"

"I am getting on with this."

"Oh, really? Because this session doesn't exactly feel _productive_ to me."

"Yes, because you decided to go dillydallying in your daydreams for a while," Balthazar says, pouring himself yet another drink. It's the third cup of coffee he's had in the past fifteen minutes. "Go on then: tell me what's happening with you."

Castiel shrugs. "Nothing much…"

"Your thirst for productivity is really something."

"Well, it's a vague question!"

"Surely there must be _something_ exciting going on in this drab little place? I mean, Christmas is only a few weeks away."

Castiel shrugs again. "Bobby's taking everyone to find a tree this afternoon."

"Ah, there you go!"

"Not that I have much experience with Christmas trees and all that."

"How come?"

"My uncle is a 'devout Christian'," Castiel says with a sigh. "Our Christmases usually involve prayers and sermons. And in my case, a lot of atoning…"

Balthazar takes a swig of coffee and gasps. "Atoning for what? I thought the bastard only recently found out about you being as gay as a box of frogs."

"Yes, well. He's never really liked me much."

"You should probably take that as a compliment."

Castiel huffs a laugh. "Maybe, yeah."

"So I'm guessing you _haven't_ been invited back home for the holidays?"

"I haven't even spoken to my uncle since his visit," Castiel rests his chin on his hand and sighs deeply. "I'm just worried about Anna. It'll be her first Christmas without me. And to be alone with that man… It just doesn't feel right."

Balthazar hands Castiel some coffee, the sound of the mug hitting the table making him jump slightly. "Well, let's handle one bloody issue at a time, shall we?"

"Anna's issues _are_ my issues, Balthazar. She's my sister. Surely you can understand that."

"I'm an only child, surprise-surprise. The strength of a sibling bond is something I'm unfamiliar with."

"But you must have _someone_ you love, right?"

Balthazar looks uncomfortable for a brief moment, but then his old smirk returns. "Do one-night stands count, by any chance?"

"No. Emotionless sex does definitely not count," Castiel rolls his eyes. He seems to do that a lot in Balthazar's presence. "Have you never felt anything more for someone? Not even your mother? Father?"

"Enough about me," Balthazar downs the last of his coffee and immediately pours himself another. "What about Dean? Have you little love birds got anything planned for Christmas? Any gifts in mind? Are you going to _jingle his bells_ , if you know what I mean?"

Castiel wills down the blush in his cheeks. "We're not discussing my sex life right now."

"Bah humbug, Cassy!"

"I'm sure there are other ways to show my appreciation," Castiel drums his fingers against his chin thoughtfully. "I'd buy him something if I had any money, but… Zachariah's in charge of my savings."

"Well, how about you make him something? That's dreadfully gooey enough, isn't it? A tacky, homemade gift never fails to impress."

Castiel shrugs. He's not exactly artistic, and his imagination leaves much to be desired. He remembers Kevin helping him make a tiny, glue pie for his date with Dean; the amount of effort and concentration he put into such a small thing was rather impressive. Castiel doubts he'd be able to replicate it.

"I… I'm not good at _making_ things."

"Not even a bloody cake?"

"The last time I stepped foot inside a kitchen, I set my hair on fire, so -"

"Isn't that friend of yours a baker?" Balthazar snaps his fingers in triumph. "There you go, Cassy! Just lump the work on someone else and then take the credit! I feel that method always works wonders."

Castiel contemplates this for a moment. He wouldn't dream of forcing Gabe to make an entire cake for him without any assistance, but there's no harm in asking for a little help, right? Gabe would only have to teach him the basics, and then he could take it from there. Safety goggles would be essential of course; losing an eye is a sure-fire way to dampen the festive cheer. He could even attempt to make Dean a pie instead. That is his favourite treat after all.

"I'll think about it," He says with a small smile; he doesn't want to make Balthazar all smug by showing him how grateful he is. "Thanks for the, uh… the suggestion."

Balthazar waves him off. "Oh, please. You don't need to remind me how spectacular I am."

"I really wasn't -"

"So, besides all that lovey-dovey nonsense, how are you really doing? Are the cogs turning smoothly upstairs?"

Castiel pulls a face. "Is that your way of asking me if I'm sane or not?"

"Do you feel like you're on the verge of anymore hiccups?" Balthazar asks matter of factly. "You know, like that time you locked yourself in your bedroom after seeing your uncle a couple of weeks ago?"

"How do you know about that?"

"I'm your new counsellor, Cassy. Do you honestly think they'd pass you on without telling me these things?"

Castiel swallows thickly, his fingers still ghosting the barely-there bruises on his wrists. "That was a one off. Zachariah said some hurtful things, and I just wanted to be alone."

"Well, alone with your boy toy, of course."

"Dean is not my 'boy toy'," Castiel says with a huff. "He's my _boyfriend_. He means more to me than some silly fling."

Balthazar hums. "And what exactly have you told good ol' Deano? Does he know the reason you're in here, about the way your uncle treats you?"

"He knows that Zachariah is a homophobic ass who sent me here under false pretences… but, no, he doesn't know about the other things."

"Are you planning on telling him?"

"Why should I?"

"Would you like an answer in list form?"

Castiel sighs, his body sinking into the chair. "He almost found out. The day after Zachariah's visit, he accused me of keeping something from him. He… He saw something he shouldn't have, and I lied so he wouldn't have to find out the miserable truth. But for a moment, he looked at me differently. He _pitied_ me, Balthazar, and I - I can't have that! Dean is the only normal thing I've ever had. How could I possibly taint that by showing him how messed up I am?"

Balthazar slowly sets his cup aside, face unusually soft, and folds his arms. "You really love him, don't you?"

Castiel sucks in a breath. "Yes. Yes, I really do."

"Well, I'm sure I don't have to tell you the obvious then: that if you _do_ love him, he's going to have to find out eventually."

"Not if we're not together he won't."

Balthazar frowns. "But, Cassy… I fail to understand why you wouldn't be together. If you love each other, then -"

"Just because I love Dean, doesn't mean he feels the same way," Castiel shrugs. "And even if he does, it would never work out between us. There's going to be a lot of changes after Christmas; once my uncle comes to take me back, I'll have a lot to figure out. Staying with Dean just won't work - for _either_ of us. He doesn't need any of my drama to deal with."

"Please tell me you're not saying what I _think_ your saying, because that would be a rather stupid decision to make."

Castiel stares down at the coffee in front of him, focussing on the dark ripples and the rich smell drifting up from the cup. He needs some kind of distraction, if only to keep himself from re-opening the cuts on his palms. Balthazar makes it sound like he _wants_ this to happen, like even considering this isn't _killing_ him inside. Saying goodbye to Dean is going to be the ultimate torture, but it has to happen. There's no point in hoping that Zachariah will ever accept his relationship with Dean. In his uncle's eyes, he's an abomination. Dean is beautiful, amazing, _wonderful_ … And Castiel is a disgrace for loving him. That's just the way it is.

"I'm leaving in January," He says to the coffee cup, refusing to meet Balthazar's eyes. "That's why this Christmas needs to be perfect, because…"

"Because you'll be leaving afterwards?"

"Because," Castiel takes a long, shuddered breath, resting his thumbs against his temples. "After the new year, whether I like it or not, things are going to change. And the only way to make that change as painless as possible is to ease myself into it."

"Cassy, what are you -"

"I'm going to break up with him, Balthazar," Castiel says, his voice cracking. "I'm going to break up with Dean."

* * *

The snow is so deep, Castiel can't even see his feet. Every step seems to swallow his boots whole, engulfing them in a mass of icy, white powder. He can barely feel his toes anymore. Not even the shelter from the trees surrounding them is enough to stem the heavy downfall of snow raining down on them, melting against his clothes and dripping down his neck. He's wearing his dad's trenchcoat for the first time since Zachariah's visit, which just goes to prove how unnaturally cold it is right now. He's pretty sure his legs are going to snap clean in half, like a sheet of ice breaking against the floor.

"You look awful," Dean says beside him, grinning like an idiot. He's wearing several layers, as per usual, along with a pair of dark brown gloves. "You wanna hold my hand?"

Castiel almost breaks down just looking at him, what with the decision he came to in Balthazar's office earlier on, but he needs to keep up the illusion of happiness. A shiver takes over his body as he slips their hands together, snuggling in close to Dean.

"How are you not freezing to death?"

"'cause I'm not a drama queen," Dean nudges his shoulder playfully. "I guess I'm just used to cold winters."

"Well, I'm glad you came," Castiel says, squeezing his hand. "You really didn't need to."

"You kiddin' me? Pickin' the tree's the best part!"

Castiel looks on ahead, where Bobby is leading the group of grumbling teenagers. Everyone decided to come along for the journey - even Lucifer, despite keeping to himself on the outskirts of the crowd. They're all trudging through the forest behind Opal Grove, searching for the best Christmas tree they can find. Castiel's not sure what defines a good Christmas tree, but they obviously haven't found it yet; they've already been out here for twenty minutes.

"They all look the same to me," Castiel admits with a shrug. "What's the significance of putting up a tree on Christmas?"

Dean balks. "Have you never had a Christmas tree?"

"Well, _yes_. But I still don't understand the reasoning behind it."

"S'all about gettin' through the winter," Dean explains, wrapping his arm around Castiel's waist to hold his other hand. "It was a Pagan tradition, ya know, so they could look forward to the spring instead."

Castiel quirks an eyebrow, impressed.

"Hey, don't gimme that look," Dean rolls his eyes. "I _do_ read, okay? I'm not a complete idiot."

"You're very smart," Castiel kisses his cheek, smiling against the light scruff dusting his jaw. "I'm just surprised you know so much about _Pagans_ , of all things."

"Yeah, well. My grandad was an historian back in the day. He told me a few wackadoodle stories when I was a kid."

Castiel hums. "Where is he now?"

"Rottin' away in some crappy care home," Dean sighs, adding: "He's got dementia."

"I'm sorry."

Dean smiles sadly and squeezes his hand. "Why're _you_ sorry? Besides, the guy's not dead. I've gotta be grateful for that, I guess."

"Were you two close?"

"A little," Dean says, then shakes his head. "I mean, _yeah_. I frickin' idolizedthe man. He was smart and witty and… Well, he was just the kinda person I wanted to be, ya know? And then one day, he disappeared. How messed up is that?"

Castiel strokes his thumb along Dean's knuckles. "Life can be cruel."

"Life can be one helluva bitch, you mean."

"Yeah," He chuckles. "That too."

They walk on in silence for a few minutes, with nothing but the sound of Gabe and Charlie arguing over who gets to put the first bauble on the tree bouncing through the forest. Castiel leans into Dean's side as another shiver slips down his spine. The heat pressing against his body, seeping through his trenchcoat and bursting through his veins, is enough to make him smile. He hasn't done much smiling since he told Balthazar about his plans for after Christmas, but it feels good to just be genuinely happy for a short moment. With Dean's fingers threaded through his own, warming his hands with every gentle squeeze, and the constant fall of snow creating a white border around them, Castiel can almost believe he's in some kind of fairy-tale. He can close his eyes and imagine doing this every year, out hunting in the woods for a Christmas tree with Dean. He can pretend this isn't one of the last happy, _normal_ times they'll have together, without his uncle there to drag them apart. He can forget that once the year is out, he'll have to say goodbye to Dean forever.

"So," Dean suddenly says, breaking the long silence with a half-smile. "You ever decorated a Christmas tree before?"

Castiel shakes his head. "Maybe when I was younger, but not that I can remember. Naomi usually decorates while we're at school. Probably so we can't ruin anything."

"Naomi?"

"Oh, she's Zachariah's sister. My aunt, _technically_ , but we hardly ever see her. She doesn't like children."

Dean scoffs. "She sure sounds pleasant."

"She's really not. No one else in my family besides her and Zachariah know that I'm gay, and she likes to remind me whenever she's around how much of a disappoint I am. I think that's the reason she stays away; she can't bear to be in the same house as me."

"That's her loss," Dean bends down to kiss the top of his head. "Did she used to live with you guys or somethin'?"

"After my mom, uh… after she left, Naomi was the only one who could look after us properly. Zachariah was our godparent, but he was busy with work. Plus, I don't think he was very enthusiastic about taking us on in the first place; my mom's side of the family had kind of segregated us from everyone else. We were an embarrassment apparently."

"Whaddya mean?"

"Well… my mom married a man she wasn't supposed to marry. She was supposed to go to school and get a decent job before settling down, but she got pregnant unexpectedly."

"With you?"

"Yeah," Castiel smiles. "With me. She'd been seeing my father behind everyone's backs for a few months. There was no way she could tell anyone; he was a failing musician at the time, didn't even have a job. He wasn't exactly 'Milton material'."

"So, she got pregnant and, what? Came clean?"

Castiel takes a deep breath, not sure if he should be telling Dean all of this. "Not at first, no. She wanted to… to get _rid_ of me. Of course, her family was completely against abortion, but the shame of having a bastard child was even greater. She broke up with my dad and tried to terminate the pregnancy in secret, but Zachariah found out before she could go through with it; my dad was so desperate to keep me that he told them everything."

"And then what happened?"

"They were angry - _disappointed_ \- but they convinced her not to do it, to stay with my dad and start a family," Castiel says with a sigh. "I don't think she ever wanted that life though. She always looked at me like I was the reason she was trapped. She and my dad learnt to really love each other after a while, but it was never authentic."

"And you're sister?"

"When Anna came along, everyone was thrilled. She'd been conceived under Christian circumstances; she was the child my parents _chose_ to have," Castiel shrugs. "But I never resented her. Anna was the first person in my life who actually loved me."

Dean slides his hand up to Castiel's shoulder, rubbing it gently to warm him up. "I'm sure your parents loved you, Cas."

"Oh, they did. But it always felt a little forced," He looks up at Dean, trying his best to smile. "It didn't bother me, don't worry. It was my job to prove to everyone that I was good, that my mom didn't make the biggest mistake of her life. And I was great at my job, for a while… before my dad left and everything went to hell."

"What happened, Cas?"

"Honestly? I don't even know myself. When I got a little older, I started to notice how my dad would go away for a few days at a time, never telling anyone where he went… He was always different when he came back, like this other life of his was starting to bleed into ours. My mom got paranoid, started drinking… They argued a lot. I guess my dad must have been having an affair. That's the only explanation for why he kept leaving."

"So he just upped sticks and left for good?"

"I knew he wouldn't be back," Castiel shrugs again. "He told me he couldn't fix any of his mistakes, no matter how hard he tried. He said he was _sorry_ that things couldn't be different. And by the time I woke up the next day, he was gone."

"What a coward."

"Yep."

"And then your mom… did she just _snap_ or somethin'?"

"She was already a mess," He says, kicking at the snow beneath his boot. "My dad leaving was just the final straw."

Dean squeezes his shoulder and sighs. "M'sorry, Cas. That's a pretty shitty hand for any kid to be dealt. But at least you had your sister, right?"

"Looking after Anna is the only thing that got me through those years. We lived with our mom for four years after my dad left; no one even bothered to step in, to see if we were okay. My mom was completely abandoned by her own family. How could I blame her for snapping?"

"D'you still see her? I mean, she's not…"

"She's alive," Castiel nods. "But, no. I haven't seen her in over three years."

"Doesn't Zachariah visit her?"

"Family means nothing to the Miltons. My mom was an embarrassment; first a whore, and now a single mother? They wanted nothing else to do with her. That's why they were so reluctant to look after Anna and I. They were afraid it was in our genes."

Dean presses a kiss against his knuckles. "Cas, I'm -"

"You have a sister?"

Castiel jumps at the sudden interruption. Lucifer is standing behind them, his eyes wide with desperate curiosity. There's something strange about his expression; it's lacking its usual confidence, replaced by something akin to sadness and betrayal.

"What the hell d'you want?" Dean growls, tightening his grip around Castiel's shoulders.

"I overheard your conversation… Is it true? Do you really have a sister?"

"What's it to you?"

"Dean, please -"

"This guy's a frickin' weirdo, Cas! What the hell's he doin' earwiggin' like that?"

"Do you have a sister?"

" _Back off_ , asshat. He doesn't wanna talk to you."

Castiel touches Dean's arm in a calming manner. "Dean, it's fine. He's just asking a simple question."

"It's none of his damn business!"

Lucifer's eyes flash. "Oh, but it's yours?"

"Cas is my family. So _yeah_ , dickbag... It _is_ my business!"

Castiel's heart lurches at the word 'family'. No one's ever called him that before, at least not wilfully. What if Balthazar was right? What if Dean _does_ feel the same way? He's not sure if that would be a blessing or a curse… On the one hand, he'd finally have someone who loves him for who he really is, but on the other hand, he'd have to say goodbye to that love, knowing that he and Dean could've had something special together.

"This has nothing to do with you, Winchester. This is personal," Lucifer clenches his fists by his sides. "Now, answer the question."

Dean steps between them. "Don't talk to him like that. He doesn't have to tell you anything."

"It's okay, Dean," Castiel pulls him back. "It's not like it's a big secret. Yes, I have a sister. Her name is Anna. Is that what you wanted to know?"

All at once, the anger drains from Lucifer's face. His mouth drops open slightly, his feet stumbling back through the snow. He looks as if Castiel just told him some terrible news, like he was expecting a different answer.

"Anna," He says carefully, as if cradling the word between his tongue. "How old is she?"

Dean breaks free from Castiel's grasp. "Okay. Now you're takin' it too far."

"Stop it, Dean."

"This guy could be creepin' over your sister, Cas!"

"How dare you," Lucifer snarls, nostrils flaring with rage. "I would never touch her. I'm not a monster."

"Well, I beg to differ."

" _Dean_ -"

"I see you're still upset about what happened with your precious mommy," Lucifer says, his voice dripping with venom. "Does she still have dreams about that night? Does she still wake up screaming?"

Dean grabs a fistful of Lucifer's coat and yanks him forward, holding him by the throat. "You sonofabitch! I'm gonna rip your frickin' lungs out, ya hear me?!"

"Hey!" Bobby's booming voice carries through the trees. He's marching towards them, hand steadying the cap on his head. "You boys better break that up before _I_ break yer damn legs!"

Dean hesitates for a moment, then releases Lucifer with growl.

"Temper, temper," Lucifer chuckles coldly, rubbing the reddened flesh around his neck. "I'm guessing Castiel likes it rough, hm?"

"I told you what you wanted to know," Castiel says, keeping a firm hold on Dean's arm. "Now just leave us alone."

Lucifer's jaw is trembling as he looks between Dean and Castiel, trying to decide whether it's worth fighting any longer. There's a wetness to his eyes too, as if he's about to cry. Castiel has the strange urge to reach forward and comfort him, but it's quickly squashed down by the vicious look he shoots at Dean. _No one_ looks at his boyfriend like that.

"Leave us," He says in a low, intimidating tone of voice. "And stop bothering me all the time. I'm not interested in what you have to say, alright?"

Lucifer's throat ripples. If Castiel didn't know any better, he'd think that Lucifer was actually upset about being rejected like that. But he _does_ know better, and he _does_ know what Lucifer's really like. There's something broken deep inside of him; Castiel can see it in his expression, shattered by bitterness. It's a sad story really, but it's got nothing to do with him. Lucifer is just another screwed-up patient like him, and that's where their similarities end.

"Fine," Lucifer clears his throat and turns to leave just as Bobby is approaching. "Sorry, warden. That won't happen again."

Bobby narrows his eyes and watches him go. "What in the hell just happened?"

"They were arguing."

"Gee. Thanks, Captain Obvious."

"It was nothin'," Dean tears his eyes away from Lucifer's retreating form. "The guy was just bein' a dick. No biggy."

Bobby scratches his chin. "Well, don't lemme catch you boys fightin' again. You don't wanna get a permanent ban from this place, do ya?"

"No, sir."

"Now, c'mon… We found a tree just over there. And quit callin' me sir."

Dean grins. "Sorry, sir."

"You're askin' for a clap around the ear, boy."

The tree they decided on looks no different from the rest, but Castiel doesn't mention that. It's a dark green fir, about 9ft tall, with thick, leafy branches that curl upwards slightly. Everyone's clustered around it (except for Lucifer, who's busy scuffing his shoes in the snow). Gabe and Charlie are already bickering over who gets to chop it down and carry it home.

"Give _me_ the axe, Bobby," Gabe sticks out his hand. "My dad lets me do the choppin' every Christmas. I know what I'm doing."

Bobby rolls his eyes. "Do I look like I was born yesterday, boy?"

"Is that a genuine question, or are you just fishing for compliments…?"

"Stand back, ya idjit."

Castiel instinctively squeezes Dean's hand as Bobby drives the axe into the bottom of the trunk, creating a groaning noise as the tree creaks forward. It takes a few swings for the trunk to finally split, the whole thing toppling over in slow motion and hitting the ground with a thud. Clouds of snow are thrown up in the air, like silver glitter painting the sky. Castiel's breath catches as he jumps out of the way, his heart thumping in his chest, and lets out a nervous, slightly giddy laugh as the snow settles again.

"Wow," He grins at Dean, who's watching him with a soft, bemused kind of smile. "That was actually exciting!"

"Told you findin' the tree was the best part."

"But how are we supposed to carry that all the way back?"

Gabe pops up out of nowhere. "Leave that to me, my dear Cassy! I've got more guns than the military."

"You 'n Bradbury take up the rear," Bobby says gruffly as he dusts off his hands. "Ain't no way I'm lettin' you carry it back by yourself."

"Aw, but -"

"Shut yer cakehole and get a move on."

Gabe grudgingly lifts the trunk of the tree with Charlie's help, with Meg and Garth in the middle, and Ruby handling the front with Bobby. Lucifer simply stalks on ahead without saying a word, shoulders hunched and hands stuffed in his pockets. Castiel and Dean hang back as everyone starts making a move back to Opal Grove with the prize tree in their hands.

"We should probably help," Castiel says reluctantly, not really wanting to ruin this alone time with Dean.

"Nah, they've got it," Dean says with a smirk. "C'mere for a sec."

Castiel turns in Dean's arms so their chests are touching. Dean's cheek are ruddy in the cold, emphasising the splattering of freckles arching over his nose. Castiel's tempted to reach forward and count them all, but he's too lost in the impossible green of Dean's eyes. They're so close, he can feel Dean's breath against his lips, just half an inch keeping them from touching. He so desperately wants to close the gap, but Dean opens his mouth before he gets the chance.

"I'm gonna make this the best Christmas you've ever had," Dean says sincerely, reaching up to cup Castiel's face in his hands. "I promise."

Castiel leans into Dean's touch and smiles. He loves how gentle and sappy Dean can be whenever their alone, as if this kindness is solely reserved for him. It makes him feel special in ways he can't even begin to explain.

"Thank you, Dean. For everything."

And then he's finally able to lean forward and press their lips together, sighing against Dean's mouth as they melt into one. They're completely alone, and the snow is still falling around them softly. He feels like he's in a scene from some cheesy romantic movie, but hell if he can think of anything cynical to say about that… This is quite possibly the most content he's ever felt in his whole life.

* * *

Four hours later, and they're all hanging out in the recreational room. Bobby brought down a load of old boxes filled with decorations from the attic, and now the floor is lost in a sea of shiny, glittery tinsel and dozens of dusty baubles. Someone found a radio station playing nothing but Christmas songs (Charlie is horrified that he doesn't know the lyrics to any of the 'classics') so everyone is busy either bobbing their head to the music, or throwing random decorations all over the place. Castiel's actually doing a little bit of both; Dean disappeared a few minutes ago, so he's sitting by the tree with Charlie and Gabe, helping them hang chocolate decorations in secret locations so no one else can find them.

"Ooh, ooh, ooh!" Charlie claps her hands together as the next song comes on. "You've _got_ to know this one, Cas! It's -"

" _A classic_. Just like the past ten songs they've played."

"Very funny. But seriously! This one _is_ a classic."

Gabe hums around a mouthful of chocolate. "She's right, Cassy. Everyone knows this one."

"Everyone except me," He shrugs, laughing as Charlie and Gabe burst into a duet of 'Merry Christmas Everyone'. It's pretty catchy, he has to admit.

"So, what went down with you and Luci before?" Gabe suddenly asks, darting his eyes around the room to make sure no one's listening. "I saw Deano try and tackle him."

"He did _not_ try and tackle him, Gabe."

"Okay, well, he grabbed him by the neck at least. What the hell did Luci say to him?"

Castiel shrugs. "Something about his mom… I'm not sure what he meant."

"Oh," Gabe rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "Did he, uh… Did he elaborate on that, or…?

"What do you mean?" Castiel frowns, glancing at Charlie, who looks just as awkward. "Do you guys know what he was talking about?"

Charlie and Gabe exchange a look - a 'do you think we should tell him' kind of look.

"It's not really our place to say," Gabe lifts a shoulder. "Lucifer's got history with the Winchesters, s'why Dean hates him so much."

"What did he do?"

"I can't tell you, Cassy. The only reason I know is 'cause I was there."

Castiel shakes his head. "I don't understand. Did something _bad_ happen? Did someone get hurt?"

"You should ask Dean," Charlie pipes up. "He'd wanna tell you himself. It's nothing major, but… It's about his family, so ya know… We don't really have the right to say anything."

Castiel deflates. "Yes, of course."

"Don't worry, kiddo. He didn't lay a hand on Dean."

That makes him feel a little less anxious, but only slightly. Dean may be the most important person in his life at the moment (beside Anna, of course), but he wouldn't want _any_ of the Winchesters getting hurt. He almost feels disappointed in Lucifer; he's always known that he was different, but he never imagined he was _dangerous_.

"There's something about him," Castiel murmurs as he spots Lucifer across the room, head bent over a book. "I feel like… like I _know_ him somehow."

Gabe raises an eyebrow. "Sure that's not just the eggnog talking?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'm being paranoid."

"Don't let him get to you, dude," Charlie says with a smile, punching him in the shoulder. "The guy's just a creep."

Castiel should probably voice his agreement, but he doesn't feel entirely comfortable insulting Lucifer like that. No matter what it is that he did, he's clearly got a lot of issues. Is it really fair to call him a 'creep' if he can't even help it?

"Don't look now, but your admirer is coming over," Gabe smirks around another bite of chocolate.

Castiel barely has time to turn around before Meg is sitting in his lap, wrapping tinsel around his neck and biting her lip. For most boys, it would probably be considered 'hot', but Castiel can only inch away in mild disgust. Ever since he arrived at Opal Grove, Meg has had some kind of weird obsession with him. But then again, she has an obsession with just about anyone with working sexual organs. Castiel only wishes she could pick on someone a little more… well, _straight_. These frequent run-ins are becoming more and more embarrassing.

"Hey, Clarence," Meg drawls, running a nail down the front of his chest. "Mm, you're lookin' good tonight. I bet you'd look better on top of the tree."

Castiel gulps like the wimp he is. "Um… Hello, Meg. Could… Could you maybe get off?"

"Don't you wanna have some fun with me?"

"No. No, not really…"

"Oh, but I could make it feel so good," She says with a smirk, not-so-subtly grinding down on Castiel's lap. "You could even invite your Ken Doll over for the ride."

"I really don't -"

"Hey, skank," Gabe scrunches up a ball of chocolate-covered foil and tosses it aside. "You ever heard of the term 'straight as a bendy straw'?"

Meg wrinkles her nose. "Ugh. Wait your turn, will ya?"

"Sorry. I'd rather not catch chlamydia this time of the year," Gabe shrugs. "It's a real downer on the holidays."

Castiel's take the distraction as an opportunity to wiggle free. Meg watches him in a amusement as he shields himself behind Charlie, her dark eyes glinting as she takes a step forward.

"You wanna play cat 'n mouse, huh?"

"No! Please, Meg. I'm not interested, okay? I'm gay! I'm… I'm _super_ gay!"

Gabe snorts. "Ain't that the truth."

"Please, just leave me alone."

Meg rolls her eyes. "You're a hard one, Clarence. But I'm gonna get you someday."

"Oh, Cassy," Gabe chuckles as Meg finally walks off. "There's nothing gayer than bein' scared shitless of straight girls."

"Shut up."

"You _were_ shaking," Charlie laughs. "That's kinda pathetic, man."

"Well, I'm not used to… to…"

"Tits?"

"Do you really need to call them that, Gabe?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Would you prefer fun bags? Headlights? _Love monkeys_?"

Castiel sighs. "I give up."

He's about to relocate to somewhere quieter, but then something green is being dangled in front of his face. He doesn't even need to look up to know who it is.

"Mistletoe," Dean grins against his cheek. "Pucker up, Cas."

Castiel does what he's told, sitting up in his chair to touch his lips against Dean's. He feels warm, and his tongue tastes of apple cider. Castiel wants to wrap himself up in nothing but Dean's embrace, just close his eyes and fall asleep with Dean's arms holding him close.

"Where did you go?" He asks as Dean sits down on the floor beside him.

"I was just talkin' to my mom."

Castiel's heart stops at the mention of Mary, but he covers it up with a cough; he doesn't want to force Dean into telling him anything he doesn't want to just yet.

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah, of course," Dean smiles strangely, as if that was a weird question. "I was just askin' her somethin' actually."

"Oh?"

Dean's face suddenly lights up with excitement. He takes Castiel's hand and leans forward, ghosting his lips against the shell of his ear. "How d'you feel about spendin' Christmas over at my house?"

Castiel balks. "What did you say?"

"I just asked my mom, Cas! She said it would okay, as long Bobby says so," The grin on his face is absolutely adorable. "Think about it: you, me, a couple of those ugly sweaters… We could have a great time. I'll even show you how to make a snow angel if ya want."

Castiel can't help but smile, albeit hesitantly. "Are you sure? I-Is that really allowed?"

"You're not high risk; you _can_ have fun, for Christ's sake."

"But what about -"

"If your dick of an uncle has anythin' to say about it, he can come to me first."

Castiel can't believe it. He pictures sitting at a long table covered in Christmas food, wearing one of those silly paper hats and chewing on turkey. He imagines holding Dean's hand under the table while John and Mary give them some embarrassing speech about using protection and what not. He sees himself in the Winchesters' home, being treated like one of their own, watching some old black and white movie with his back pressed up against Dean's chest. It all seems too good to be true… But _god_ does he want it - _all_ of it.

"You'd really want to spend Christmas with me?"

Dean rolls his eyes fondly. "You're such an idiot, Cas. I wanna spend _every_ day with you. It's kind of a problem, really…"

Castiel huffs a watery laugh and squeezes Dean's hand. "Then yes. I'd love to."

There's no better feeling than making Dean smile. His eyes light up and he gets these cute little dimples in his cheeks, and it's just the most beautiful sight. He has no idea how he turned into such a romantic, but honestly? He couldn't care less. Especially when Dean is lifting him up and spinning him in the air, laughing into the crook of his neck.

"This is gonna be awesome," He grins as he lowers Castiel down, peppering his face with tiny kisses. "You're finally gonna meet my Baby! Aw, Cas, you're gonna love her… She's beautiful. I mean, if Ian Somerhalder was a car, ya know? Yeah, I don't really know where I'm goin' with that either, but you'll get what I mean… Oh, and I can show you around town! There's this _awesome_ diner just down the street from my house, so we maybe we could…"

Castiel finds himself drifting off as Dean continues to babble, too busy studying the different shades of green in his eyes. He's so gorgeous. He's so… _perfect_. Okay, nobody's perfect, but Dean definitely comes close.

"I can't wait," He breathes, not even sure if Dean's stopped talking yet.

"Well, what did I tell ya, Cas?" Dean says, pulling him close and resting their foreheads gently together. "I'm gonna make this the best Christmas you've ever had."

Castiel takes a shaky breath, lifting a hand to Dean's face. He doesn't want to think about saying goodbye to this face in just a few weeks' time. He doesn't want to think about the anger and the confusion, the shouting and the tears. He doesn't want to think about this Christmas being the end to all of this, but just another chapter in their story. He wants this Christmas, and every _other_ Christmas, all with Dean… But he knows he can't have it. It kills him to think it, but he just can't, and it would be cruel to tell himself otherwise.

He can allow himself this one last thing - this one last moment of pure, untainted happiness - and then that's it; then it's time to be brave and let him go.


	17. Chapter 17

**This chapter is on time... YAY! Please leave a review if you get the chance. I appreciate all of your lovely comments. Thank you so much :)**

* * *

For the first time since, well… since _forever_ , Castiel is actually looking forward to Christmas. He never quite understood the hype until now (his Christmases have always been a time of solemnity and prayer, with Zachariah constantly jumping down his throat for no reason), but now it's all starting to make sense; Christmas at Opal Grove is, dare he say it, _fun_. There are lights and music and weird party games, and everyone seems to get along ten times more than usual. Charlie's even been educating him on all the 'classic' Christmas songs and movies (most of which he's never even heard of before). He could almost forget that once the season's over, him and Dean will have to say goodbye to each other for good.

Speaking of Dean: he finally got around to asking Gabe for that favour. They're currently standing in the kitchen, surrounded by dirty dishes and dozens of different ingredients, while Gabe shows him how to make the perfect shortcrust pastry. Castiel didn't even know that there were different kinds of pastry, so it's a good thing he has Gabe for support.

"I'm takin' this pie for myself," Gabe says as he starts to form the crumbly mixture into a solid mound on the table. "Just so you know."

Castiel chuckles. "That's more than fair. I just need the practice, is all."

"So you're gonna make one of these bad boys for Deano, huh? Damn, Cassy… Things sure are getting domestic between you two. Should I start planning the wedding cake yet?"

"No," Castiel clears his throat. He doesn't want to imagine any hypothetical weddings, not anymore. "No, I think the pie will be fine for now."

Gabe raises an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

"Of course not."

"Well, I've learnt not to bother asking twice with you. If you wanna keep a secret, you can be a hella persistent."

"I'm not keeping any _secrets_ , Gabe."

"Oh, sure."

"Don't say it like that."

"Like what?"

Castiel rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. "Like you clearly don't believe me, but refuse to explain why."

"Would you rather I explain?"

"I already know what you're thinking."

"Oh, really? Go on then."

"You think Dean and I are having problems because I don't want to talk about some silly, imaginary cake for a wedding that's never going to happen," Castiel says, slamming an apple onto the table with more force than intended. "Well, you're wrong. I'm not a twelve year old with a crush, Gabe. I don't have any unrealistic expectations for the future."

Gabe wraps the dough in clingfilm and scoffs. "If you're tryin' to convince me that nothing's wrong, you're doin' a pretty crappy job of it."

"Why do you have to do this?"

"Do what exactly?"

"Ask so many questions! Always assume that something's wrong!"

"Newsflash, Cassy. It's called _caring_."

Castiel sighs. "Yes, and I appreciate it. But everything is perfectly okay between us. You can stop worrying all the time."

"I really don't worry that much, you know. I do have a life outside of yours and Dean's relationship drama."

"Ah, yes. Stealing candy from the kitchen and typing 'boobies' into your calculator. What a life."

"Is that _sass_ I hear coming from you, Novak?"

Castiel smirks. "Is that _paranoia_ I hear coming from _you_?"

"I swear this place has turned you into a bigger asshole than before. Or maybe that's just the Winchester affect."

"You're just jealous that you can't have a Winchester for yourself. Yours would probably be illegal."

Gabe points a dough-covered finger at him. "Hey! Thirteen is a respectable age. I've just gotta wait until Sammy gets out the closet."

"You might be waiting a long time for that."

"Just 'cause the kid's found himself a little girlfriend, doesn't mean diddlysquat. We have a connection, you know?"

"If you call scaring the poor boy half to death a _connection_ , then yes."

"Ah, shut your face, Cassy."

Castiel grins and nods at the apple in his hand. "What do we do with these?"

"Hold your horses, kiddo! We've gotta make the sauce first," Gabe waves at the fridge. "Fetch me some butter, will ya?"

Castiel does what he's told. He may be an awful cook, but being obedient is one thing he's definitely good at. There's a flame on the hob when he turns back around. Gabe takes the butter wordlessly and breaks some into a saucepan, melting it into a rich, yellow liquid. Castiel can only stand back and watch as Gabe continues to throw random ingredients into the butter, the smell of the sauce quickly filling the room.

"You getting all of this by the way?"

Castiel blinks. "Uh… Yeah. Yeah, of course."

"That sure sounds convincing. You wanna grab a pen or something?"

"That would probably be best," He smiles sheepishly, darting into his room to grab something to write with. Gabe is already pouring the sauce over a bowl of chopped apples by the time he gets back. "What did I miss?"

"Oh, just the entire recipe," Gabe says with a sigh as he hands Castiel a wooden spoon. "I'm sure I can trust you with this, right?"

Castiel deflates. "I'm sorry, Gabe. I'm not the best student."

"Don't worry about it. We've got a couple more weeks until the big day. I'm sure we can practice a few more times… I'm not one to say no to _pie_ , after all."

"You sound like Dean."

"That's one thing the kid's got going for him," Gabe says as he licks his fingers. "His appetite is pretty damn impressive."

Castiel stabs the bowl cautiously with his spoon, frowning at the apples floating about in the yellow mixture. "Dean's got a lot more going for him than his _stomach_ , I'll have you know."

"Yeah, 'cause your opinion ain't biased at all."

"He's funny and kind and _sweet_. And he always knows how to make me smile."

"Ugh," Gabe wrinkles his nose. "You carry on and you'll start shooting love hearts outta your butt or something."

"I don't think that's physically possible."

"You and your technicalities."

Once Castiel's poured the mixture into the ready-prepared pie dish (as per instruction), Gabe starts doing some fancy thing with strips of pastry. The lattice design makes it look like something straight out of a movie, and the apple sauce oozing through the gaps is enough to make his stomach growl. He doesn't even have that big of a sweet tooth, but there's really no denying how amazing it looks and smells.

"You ready to shove it in the oven?"

"Go for it."

Gabe carries the pie with expert care, donned in a ridiculous pair of oven gloves, and places the pie on the top shelf. Castiel finds it strangely satisfying how all this mess (the kitchen looks absolutely terrible) has gone into making such a tidy, little pie. A part of him just wants to sit cross-legged on the floor and watch it bake with childlike wonder, but the sensible part of his brain knows he can't leave this mess to clean itself up. Gabe is already scrunching up empty packets and tossing them into bin bags, and Castiel feels like an ass for not having started already. He quickly starts clearing the dirty bowls off the counter and into the sink.

"Thanks for this, Gabe," He says with sincerity. "Really, I… I wouldn't even know where to start without you."

"S'what friends are for, Cassy."

"Honestly, you're one of the first real friends I've ever had."

A smile touches Gabe's lips for a second, but it soon twists back into a smirk. "My deepest apologies for putting you off friends for life."

"You know you're a great friend. Stop pretending."

"Yeah, you're right. I'm pretty great."

Castiel laughs. "Especially with all that flour in your hair."

"What?!" Gabe ruffles a hand through his slicked-back do, creating a dust cloud of white power that floats in the air.

Castiel isn't laughing for much longer, not when Gabe promptly throws a fistful of flour against his shirt. He tries scrubbing it off, but it's useless; he just ends up making a large, grey smudge all over himself. He retaliates by throwing the wooden spoon (covered in apple juice) right at Gabe's face, hitting him on the nose with a dull thunk. Complete and utter chaos ensues, with apples and sugar and dirty spoons flying everywhere.

But their fun is quickly interrupted by an angry-looking Bobby tapping his shoe on the floor.

"Uh, hey, warden," Gabe chuckles nervously in the midst of cracking an egg against Castiel's head. "We were just, um… baking."

Bobby lifts an eyebrow. "You boys sure got a different idea of the term _bakin_ ' to me."

"Yeah, well… Castiel's trying to make something for Deano. You're not gonna begrudge him of that, surely?"

"I ain't here to tear you a new one. Though you better clean this up before six o'clock." Bobby warns him, then turns to Castiel with the house phone in his hand. "You've got a call, son. Some young girl."

Castiel flicks a confused look Gabe's way. "Oh… Okay."

"You wanna take it outside?"

"Um, sure."

Bobby hands him the phone and ushers him into the empty hallway. Castiel just stares down at it for a long moment, lump in his throat, before lifting it to his ear with shaking hands. He doesn't even sound like himself when he finally speaks.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Castiel! Oh, phew. I was worried for a second," He instantly recognises the light, chirpy voice on the other end, and his heart almost collapses.

"Anna?!"

"Yeah, it's me! I stole the phone from uncle Zach's office. He won't let me speak to you!"

"Anna, you can't be so reckless. If he catches you -"

"He won't. He's out with Naomi."

Castiel winces. "She's back already?"

" _Duh_. It's only two weeks until Christmas. She's everywhere I turn."

"Has she… Has she _said_ anything?"

"About you? Not really. They're both being pretty hush-hush about it. It's like you don't even exist anymore."

He scoffs. "Why doesn't that surprise me."

"I'm getting really scared, Castiel. When are you back? Zach hasn't even mentioned anything about Christmas! You _are_ coming home for the holidays, right?"

"Anna, I -"

"Because I don't think I could go through it without you, big brother. Ever since you left, they've been suffocating me more than usual."

"It's only for a few more weeks."

"But what about _Christmas_?"

Castiel's heart clenches painfully in his chest. "Anna, please… You know I'd come if I could. But I crossed a line at Zachariah's visit. He doesn't want to talk to me, let alone spend the whole day with me."

"What even happened between you two? He was so angry when he got back."

"Nothing. Just the usual," He grits his teeth. As far as Anna knows, Zachariah sent him to Opal Grove to sort out his depression. She has no idea that he's gay.

"You're lying to me, Castiel! As soon as he came home, he started making all these weird phone calls. I didn't see him for hours."

 _Phone calls? That definitely doesn't sound good._

"I'm sure it was about something else."

"Please, tell me the truth!"

"You've got to trust me, Anna."

"I'm scared."

"I know," He blinks back the tears, trying to keep his voice steady. "I get scared too sometimes, but you know what I do when that happens?"

"What?"

"I think back to that summer when Naomi was sick. Do you remember? Uncle Zachariah had to go look after her, and we stayed with that neighbour with all the strange ornaments?"

"You mean Missouri?"

"Yeah," Castiel manages a smile. "Yeah, that's the one."

"I really loved that summer."

"Me too."

Anna is quiet for a moment, and then a sigh crackles down the line. "Do you ever miss mom?"

Castiel swallows. "Sometimes, yeah."

"Why do you think she got so crazy? Was it because dad left us?"

"A part of it maybe. But it's more complicated than that."

"Adults are always complicated."

Castiel laughs. "Yeah, they are. That's why I want you to stay a kid for as long as possible."

"I'm not a kid anymore."

"Don't say that."

"But I'm not! And I'm not an idiot either. I know something's wrong."

"Anna -"

"I said your name at the dinner table the other day, and uncle Zach just… _froze_. It was creepy. He gave me this weird look, and then he just carried on eating!"

"It's because I've disappointed him. It's got nothing to do with you."

"But he's gone all _strange_ now! It like, I don't know… He stares at me a lot, and he keeps making me pray all the time! I'm really scared. What if he starts doing stuff to me?"

Castiel's stomach drops. "What?! Why would you even say something like that? You know he'd never hurt you."

"But he hurts _you_."

"No, that's not -"

"I know you've been trying to hide it from me, but I'm not stupid! He takes you away from me and then he _does_ stuff. You always try to brush it off, but I've _seen_ the bruises, big brother, so don't lie to me."

Castiel clenches his fists tightly, the first pang of sharp pain tearing through his palms. "I-I deserve it, Anna. He does it to set a good example."

"What?! How can you even say that?"

"I'm bad, so he punishes me."

"You're not bad!"

"And if you act like me, he'll do the same to you."

Anna squeaks. "Don't say that… Why would you _say_ that?"

 _Because I don't want you to end up like me._

"Because it's the truth," He clears his throat. "The wicked have to be punished, Anna. And _I'm_ wicked. Zachariah loves you because you're good."

"Well, I don't want to be good!"

"Yes you do."

"No -"

" _Yes_ , Anna. Yes you do! You _have_ to be good, okay? Promise me you'll be good?"

Castiel can hear her sniffles on the other end, each one piercing his ear drums like tiny daggers. Hearing her like this, and not being able to comfort her… It's the worse feeling in the world. He can't even look after his baby sister. What purpose does he have?

"I promise," Anna says, her voice a little breathless. "I'll be good."

"And I'll be home soon."

"Really?"

"Second week of January," He forces a smile. "And then we'll see other again. I _promise_."

Anna sniffs again. "I love you, big brother."

"I love you too."

"I-I've got to go, before Uncle Zach comes home…"

"Yeah, okay. Please, be good for me. Just keep your head down, alright?"

"I will do."

"Okay. I'll see you soon."

"Okay."

"And don't worry about me. I'm fine."

"Okay."

"Goodbye, Anna."

"Bye…"

And then the line goes dead.

Castiel slumps against the wall, phone dangling out of his hand, and sucks in a breath. A soundless cry racks his body. That's the first time he's heard his sister's voice in almost two months. It might even be the last, depending on his uncle's plans for him. What if their last conversation was filled with lies? What if Anna will spend the rest of her life wondering why he abandoned her without so much as a warning? She'll never trust anyone ever again. What if his attempts to protect her have only ruined her chances of living a normal life? What if Zachariah was _right_? What if he really _is_ a bad influence on her?

"Stop," He mutters to himself, scrubbing a hand over his face. " _Stop it_."

And then, without giving it much thought, he reaches into his pocket for his phone and texts the only person he can think of.

 _ **Are you busy?**_

Dean replies almost instantly.

 **Tutoring. Whats up?**

Oh, god. He's so ignorant. Why the hell did he just assume that Dean would be readily available? Why can't he think about anyone other than himself for just _one_ second?

 _ **It's nothing. Sorry for disturbing you. Talk to you later?**_

It takes a couple of minutes for Dean to text back.

 **On my way over. 10 mins.**

 _ **Please don't change your plans for me**_ \- he types out frantically - _**I promise, I'm fine.**_

 **Im not stupid Cas. Meet u by ur window k?**

 **Oops. Bad grammar. Sry.**

 ****SORRY!**

 **;)**

Castiel's heart melts. He's so in love with this idiot, it's ridiculous. Not that he deserves anyone as perfect as Dean. He's nothing but a spineless coward who lies to everyone he cares about and constantly hides behind his insecurities. Why does Dean even like him?

 _ **You're forgiven. I'll see you soon.**_

And, like a coward, he can't bear saying no to Dean either, no matter how unhealthy being around him is at the moment. It's just too hard to turn him away.

* * *

"Okay. So what exactly happened?"

Castiel lets his head fall back against his pillow with a sigh and shrugs. He's been sitting here with Dean for about fifteen minutes, and he still can't seem to get the words out. Telling him that his sister rang him isn't much of an explanation to why he's feeling so low; to really make sense of it all, he'd have to go into details about his uncle, and why Anna is so afraid to be by herself with the man. And that's not really something he wants to get into right now.

"I had a phone call," He says. "From my sister… I haven't spoken to her in weeks."

Dean frowns. "That's a good thing, right? Why're you upset?"

"She wants me to go home for Christmas."

"Ah."

"But obviously I can't, for numerous reasons. My uncle doesn't want to see me after our argument for a start, and then there's the idea of going back to that house… I just don't think I'm ready for all of that."

"Makes sense," Dean says, reaching forward to touch his knee. "I mean, who'd wanna go back to that asshat?"

"But I feel awful for leaving Anna all by herself."

"You're not goin' back, Cas. No way!"

Castiel rolls his eyes fondly. "Stop panicking. I'm not going back. At least not yet anyway."

"Yeah, well. If I had any say in it, you'd never go back to that place."

"I thought you'd gotten over your hatred for my uncle?"

"Nope. I still hate the guy. Just a little less than when I thought he was hittin' you."

Castiel swallows. "He's not a nice person, granted. But he's the only guardian Anna and I have until our mom gets back on track. _If_ she gets back on track."

"But what if she doesn't? Cas, you've gotta think about yourself, man. D'you really wanna stick around that place any longer than you have to?"

"What do you suggest? That I kidnap Anna and run away?"

"If your uncle hates you as much as you say he does, I'm sure he'll have no problem lettin' you go. You could come stay with me."

Castiel smiles sadly. "That's a lovely offer, Dean, but -"

"Too soon to move in together, huh?" Dean says with a smirk. "I just don't want you thinkin' you've got no one… I'm _here_ , Cas. All you've gotta do is trust me."

"I _do_ trust you, Dean."

"Then why're you hidin' your hands like that?"

Castiel glances down at his hands, twisted in his sleeves to cover up the fresh cuts on his palms. He didn't dig into them anywhere near as deep this time, but it was still enough to show. Instant embarrassment flares up inside of him.

"Dean, I -"

"S'alright, Cas. I get it. Just hang on a sec."

Dean shrugs off his leather jacket and drapes it over Castiel's shoulders, then gently rolls up the sleeves of his jumper, revealing the tiny cuts arching over his palms. Castiel watches his face carefully as he runs his runs his fingers over each one, taking a moment to kiss his knuckles before taking both his hands and resting them in his lap. When their eyes meet, Dean's lips quirk with a small smile.

"Still gorgeous to me."

Castiel ducks his head in shame. "I'm such a mess, Dean."

"Nah. You're just a little flaky. Nothin' wrong with that. Plus, you're pretty hot."

"Oh, thanks."

"You're very welcome," Dean winks. "Don't you love havin' a boyfriend who always makes you feel appreciated?"

Castiel chuckles. "You're such an assbutt."

"And you're adorable... Even when you're givin' me the stink eye."

"I'm giving you no such thing."

"Are too."

"Shut up," Castiel laughs, pushing his hands away. Dean grabs the sleeves of his jacket and yanks him forward until he's practically sitting in his lap. All Castiel can do is blush and look away, avoiding Dean's hooded gaze. They haven't done anything since… well, _you know_. Castiel's not sure how to approach the subject without sounding needy.

"You're blushin' again."

Castiel smiles. "So are you."

It feels like years before their lips finally meet, melting against each other perfectly. Dean lifts a hand and drags it through Castiel's hair, curling his fingers around tightly. The slight tug is enough to make him hiss, but the heat pooling in his stomach is more than enough to distract him from the small sting. He manages to push his shoulder blades out until Dean's jacket slips off onto the bed, and then he wraps his arms around Dean's neck and lowers himself down. He's straddling Dean's chest, his back arched uncomfortably to make the position work, and every muscle in his body is aching… But _god_ , does it feel good.

"Cas," Dean mumbles against his mouth. "Cas, ugh. Cas, baby, I'm gettin' hard. We should probably stop -"

"Not yet," He growls. "I want to make you feel good."

Dean swallows loudly, his eyes widening. "Cas, you don't have to."

"But I want to."

"Hey, if it's too soon after -"

"It's too _late_ ," He says, nibbling along Dean's jawline. "I've been waiting so long for this. I wanted to do something before, but I didn't want to push you... Just tell me you want this."

"Well, _yeah_ , but -"

"Dean," He sits up, cheeks flushed and heart thumping. "Do you want me?"

"Yes."

"Do you want me _now_?"

Dean nods, his throat rippling. "Hell, yes."

"Okay," Castiel smiles despite himself. He's secretly relieved that Dean didn't turn him down and walk away. "Then what are you waiting for?"

Dean hesitates for half a second before crushing their lips together. Castiel moans into his mouth, trailing his hand down Dean's body until he feels the hard line of his cock pressing against his jeans. The sensation is enough to make him shiver. He scoots himself down until his groin is touching Dean's, every small movement grinding them closer together. He can feel pleasure coiling in his stomach, threatening to burst at any moment. If they don't hurry things along, he'll come undone like this, snapping his hips desperately against Dean's. He wants to try something different, something that will make Dean feel amazing.

"Can I touch you?" He asks in a whisper.

Dean swallows thickly and nods.

"Okay."

He slowly undrapes his legs from around Dean's waist, wincing as his jeans catch against his growing hardness. Dean watches him with wide eyes as he lays himself flat against the bed and starts nosing at the bulge straining against his pants. He once caught a group of boys in his old school watching porn in the locker-room. They showed him a video of a girl doing this to an older man, and made him swear not to tell anyone. The image stuck with him for years. But it wasn't the girl he thought about; he was more interested in watching the man's face slowly fall apart. He was mortified to wake up at the age of twelve with that image in mind, his sheets covered in a strange kind of stickiness. It was around then that he started to realize that maybe he was different to other boys. It was _then_ that his life started to unravel.

"I… I'm going to try something new," He says to Dean, his voice cracking pathetically. "Don't freak out, okay?"

Dean rearranges himself on the bed, almost as if he knows what's coming. "Are you sure -"

"I'm very sure."

And with that, he undoes the buckle of Dean's belt with trembling hands, letting it drop onto the floor with a heavy plop, and opens his fly. It's a little awkward pulling his jeans down (Dean ends up lifting his hips to make it easier). His underwear's a different story. All Castiel has to do is stroke along the hardened shaft for it to pop out of its own accord. Dean is already hard and flushed, curving up against his stomach slightly.

"I'm going to touch you," Castiel says, his voice low and thick.

Dean doesn't even get a chance to respond before Castiel's fingers are wrapping around him. He feels heavier than last time, hotter as well. His strokes start off careful, _hesitant_. He twists his hand as he reaches the top, gathering pre-cum like Dean did before, and strokes slowly back down. In the video, the girl did this a few times to 'warm him up'. _Foreplay_ is the proper term. Well, according to Gabe anyway. Dean's eyelids are twitching when he glances back up at him, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Watching Dean getting all flustered is enough to spur things forward. He's not sure how much longer either of them will last this way.

He just goes for it. He's still watching Dean's face as he wraps his lips around the tip of his cock, and then as he inches it down further. It's strange, having his mouth so full like this. He thought the taste would bother him, but he's too busy trying to work out how to make Dean feel as good as he can. He studies the small flickers of change in his expression, the way his eyes flutter and his mouth hangs open. He takes him down deeper, squeezes his thigh, and finds a rhythm that makes Dean's legs start to shake. It's all a blur. A wonderful, mindless blur. He keeps his head bobbing up and down, makes sure to soothe Dean's spasms with a stroke of his hand, and just keeps going. Even when Dean hits the back of his throat with a curse, he carries on. He wants to feed him pleasure. He wants to give him something in return, for everything he's done that Castiel never truly deserved. It's just sex. It's not enough, but it will have to do.

"Cas," Dean moans out, twisting his fingers in his hair. Castiel relishes the pain; it's different to the heavy blow of Zachariah's fist, or the sharp sting of his own nails. It's dirty and desperate and _sinful_ in every way imaginable.

"Are you close?" He asks, pumping Dean with his fist as he looks into his eyes.

Dean sucks in a breath and nods. "Yeah, I'm - Ungh… Fuck, Cas. _Yes_."

Castiel can feel his face burning as he goes back down. The noises Dean is making really shouldn't be legal. He can't even believe he's doing this, after so many years of trying to fight who is and hide himself away. Dean has awoken something fierce and hungry inside of him. He doesn't _care_ what Zachariah would think. He doesn't _care_ about the endless beatings and disgust he'd receive as punishment if he ever found out. He doesn't _care_ if the admission into hell is sharing a moment like this with the boy he loves… Maybe that makes him twisted and sick in the head, but oh well. This _is_ the real him, and there's no point in pretending otherwise anymore. In a few weeks' time, his uncle will take him away from this place - away from Dean - and all of this will be gone forever. He knows it's wrong to lead Dean on, making him think that they have a chance, but he just can't bear to let him go yet. They need to make the most of their time together, before it's too late.

"C-Cas… Cas, baby, I'm -" Dean chokes out a moan, his grip on Castiel's hair tightening as he reaches the edge.

Castiel pulls away just in time (as much as he loves Dean, he doesn't think swallowing is really his thing). Strings of cum cover his fist as Dean finally lets go, his eyes squeezed shut and mouth agape in pure bliss. Castiel's still breathing heavily as he watches him. It's beautiful, he thinks, the way Dean's throat bobs and his cheeks turn pink. He almost wants to take a photo and frame this moment forever, but even _he_ knows how creepy that sounds.

"Cas," Dean breathes after a long moment of silence. "What was that?"

"I wanted to make you feel good."

"Well, fuck," He laughs. "You sure did a good job there."

"You enjoyed it?"

"You kiddin' me? That was frickin' _amazin',_ Cas! Looks like you had fun as well."

Castiel glances down at himself, shocked (and just a little embarrassed) to see the wet patch seeping through his jeans. He came from giving Dean a blowjob. He didn't even think that was possible.

"Oh… My apologises."

"Why the hell are you sayin' sorry?"

"I, um… That was… I-I was trying to make _you_ feel good, and I -"

"Shut up," Dean says with a roll of his eyes, reaching forward to cup Castiel's face. "When're you gonna stop puttin' yourself below others, huh?"

Castiel smirks. "I thought you _liked_ having me below you?"

"Seriously?" A grin breaks across Dean's face. "Has it really come to this, Cas? _You're_ the one makin' the sex jokes now? Never thought I'd see the day."

"I guess you must have had a bad influence on me. My uncle was right all along."

"Ah, that must be the case."

Castiel smiles, then grimaces at the quickly-cooling mess covering his hand and Dean's hips. "As much as I'm starting to enjoy this sex thing… The aftermath is never quite as appealing, is it?"

"Ugh. You're right," Dean's face contorts. "Lemme get that."

Castiel feels boneless as Dean slips out from beneath him, grabbing something to clean them up with. He can distantly feel the warm, wet cloth against his skin, like it's happening in a faraway dream. Dean tosses the cloth aside (he doesn't even want to think about where it landed) and collapses back beside him. Their noses touch and Castiel smiles.

"I really want to kiss you right now, but I don't think that would be very sanitary."

Dean chuckles. "You sayin' I'm dirty?"

"What? No! No, I didn't mean -"

"You're such a dork."

Dean presses a soft kiss against his lips, muffling the oomph of surprise that Castiel makes. They lie there for God knows how long, too busy staring at each other in the way sappy couples do to care. Dean trails his fingers up and down Castiel's forearm gently, and Castiel silently counts the freckles speckling his rosy cheeks. He's so tempted to come out and say it - to tell Dean how he really feels - but what would be the point? There's no sense in taking their relationship a step further if he's going to break up with him after Christmas. That would just be cruel to both of them.

So instead he says: "Do you want to stay for dinner?"

Dean's mouth lifts in a crooked smile as he strokes Castiel's cheek, nuzzling just a little bit closer. "Sure, Cas. I'll stay."

* * *

Castiel's never been so stuffed before in his life. Gabe offered to help Bobby cook in return for destroying the kitchen, which obviously resulted in the portions being tripled in size and doused in sugar. He doesn't even want to _think_ about waffles ever again, or he might just pass out.

"You gonna eat that?" Dean points at the half-finished waffle still sitting on his plate.

Castiel raises his eyebrows. "You can't be serious."

"Hey! I'm a growin' boy."

"You're going to have a heart attack," He says, handing Dean the leftover waffle. "Please don't make yourself sick."

Dean snorts. "I've tackled bigger meals than _this_ before, Cas. I'm good."

Castiel huffs a laugh as Dean shovels the whole thing into his mouth in one go. He should probably be grossed out, but everything Dean does seems to be adorable to him. Yes, he's turned into one of _those_ people.

"So, what're doin' for Christmas?" Dean asks Charlie around a mouthful of waffles. "Any plans?"

Charlie looks startled for a moment, her eyes widening comically as she sits up in her chair. It's like Dean caught her in the act of something scandalous. "Oh. I'm just, uh… Visiting my mom."

"Awesome."

"You've never talked about your mom before. What's she like?"

Charlie waves the question off with a nervous laugh. "Oh, she's just like any other mom, I guess."

"Well, I hope you have a great time."

"Thanks," She smiles (and unless Castiel's imagining things, she looks a little sad). "But you guys are gonna have the best time ever! I mean, _Cas_. You're meeting the family! I bet you're super nervous, right? What're you gonna do? How're you gonna act around them?"

Dean drapes an arm around Castiel's shoulders and shrugs. "He's just gonna be himself. Right, Cas? My family's easily pleased. And Cas is the kinda guy you wanna take home to your family anyway."

"I think you're overestimating my likability," Castiel says a little awkwardly. "I'm not very good with… _people_."

"Hey, you'll be fine."

"I just want them to like me."

"Well, my mom already does, and Sammy thinks your great… All you've gotta do is have a beer with my dad, pretend to like baseball, and you're good to go."

Castiel squirms. "I know absolutely nothing about baseball."

"You don't need to. My dad'll do all the talkin'."

"You're not going to leave me alone with any of them, are you?"

Dean chuckles. "They're not gonna _eat_ you, Cas."

"I know, but… I-I'm just worried."

"I'll be there the whole time. S'no need to get worked up about it, man. They're gonna love you."

"Get a room, you two," Gabe suddenly appears with a plateful of chocolate chip cookies. The freshly-baked aroma is enough to rouse one last, pitiful groan from Castiel's stomach.

"Take them away," He whines, swatting the plate with his hands.

Dean reaches forward and grabs three. "Naw, bring 'em closer! I'm starvin'…"

Charlie laughs. "You're actually an animal."

"A guy's gotta eat."

"Not enough for four grown men," Castiel says in the chastising, big brother kind of voice he usually reserves for Anna. "I love your chub, but I don't want to see you keeling over."

Dean frowns. "My what? I ain't got any _chub_. What're you talkin' about? S'all muscle under here, baby."

"Right," Castiel smirks, poking the small roll of fat poking over Dean's pants. "I think it's cute."

"Shaddup."

"Aw, Deano's blushing," Gabe bats his eyelashes. "How sweet."

"For the last frickin' time! I am _not_ a blusher."

Castiel rolls his eyes, seeing how riled up Dean is starting to get, and changes the subject. "So, what are Christmases like at your house? What should I expect?"

Dean quickly relaxes. "Oh, well… We're kinda traditional, I guess. Turkey, crackers, crappy board games… We go the whole nine yards, ya know?"

"I've never had a turkey dinner."

All three of them simultaneously turn to Castiel with matching looks of horror.

"What?!" Gabe slaps a hand over his heart. "My poor, poor Cassy… I didn't know Christians were against _turkey_!"

"They're not. We just never have time to have a proper meal on Christmas day. My uncle makes us go to Church for the morning, and then we say our prayers, and then we go around the houses selling bibles -"

"You _what_?"

Castiel chuckles. "I'm just kidding. Well, about the bibles anyway."

"Well, prepare to be amazed," Dean swipes his hand across the air, as if painting a picture for all of them to see. "We're gonna start with presents - 'cause I mean, who doesn't love presents? - and then we'll move onto the games. My folks usually start arguing over the dinner at around twelve, so that's when me and Sammy go nuts with the candy on the tree. Then we'll watch some old Christmas flick - Sammy always picks 'It's A Wonderful Life. And then, once we've eaten and my dad's got a few beers in him, we'll have a game of charades. You ever played that before? It's awful, but in a good way."

Castiel blinks at Dean, his brain desperately trying to process all of that. "That sounds… interesting."

"It's gonna be awesome!"

"I'm sure it will be," He grins, his eyes sliding over the room as Dean and Gabe start joking about drunk parents playing charades. Because apparently, that's a common thing.

He immediately spots Lucifer in the corner of the room, not because he's instinctively drawn to the other boy, but because of the expression on his face. He's sitting hunched over in his chair, hand clasping the handle of his smiley face mug, and his knee is bobbing up and down anxiously.

Castiel swallows. "Uh, guys. I think you should maybe lower your voices -"

"Oh, _god_. And when they start singing? That's the worst!"

"My dad took his frickin' pants off last year! S'not really a memory he's proud of, but what the hell."

"Guys -"

"What about grandparents falling asleep in their chairs?"

"I know, right? It always happens!"

"Guys, really," Castiel pokes Dean in the arm, but he's too enthralled in his conversation. Lucifer's now glaring at them from across the room, the muscles in his jaw twitching.

"And then there's the awkward as hell family photo. Ya know, the one you've all gotta stand in a line with your paper hats on for? I mean, _really_. D'you need the same damn photo every year?"

"ENOUGH!"

The room suddenly falls silently as Lucifer rises from his chair, the sound of his smiley face mug hitting the floor with a sickening crash making everyone stop in their tracks. Castiel's hand automatically flies to Dean's chest; it's the protective side of him he can't ever seem to quell.

"You people disgust me," Lucifer sneers, his hands trembling as he points a finger at Dean and Gabe. "How dare you sit there, complaining about your _family_ and your _Christmases_ , when half of the sad suckers in this institute don't even have a home to go back to?! What gives you the right to gripe about your parents like they're some kind of burden? Do you know how much some people would kill to have people who love them like that?!"

"It was just a joke, dude. You're takin' it the wrong way," Dean says, his voice surprisingly calm. Castiel would think that another outburst from Lucifer would make him go nuts. "I love my family more than you'll ever know. Yeah, they're a royal pain in the ass sometimes, but that's family for ya."

Lucifer clenches his fists. "Who are you to talk to me about _family_ , Winchester? You don't know what it's like to love someone who treats you like dirt. Your life has always been so cushy, hasn't it?"

"You don't know anythin' about me, man."

"No," Lucifer growls, slowly unclenching his fists as he turns for the door. "And I don't wish to either."

There are a few whispers once he's left the room, but the atmosphere quickly returns. Castiel supposes that kind of thing must happen quite often around here.

"What is it with you two?" Castiel asks Dean without thinking. He didn't want to push him, but maybe it's time he learnt the truth about Lucifer.

Dean scratches the back of his head and sighs. "It's… It's nothin' really, Cas. We've just got bad water under the bridge."

"What kind of 'bad water'? He didn't do anything to you, did he?"

"Not to _me_ , no."

"Then who? What happened? Just tell me, please."

Dean licks his lips, eyes darting around the room for a second, and then turns back to Castiel. "Okay, so… My mom used to be Lucifer's counsellor for a bit. They were really close. It was weird, 'cause the guy never talked to anyone else, but my mom would go on and on about how great he was. She really wanted to help him, ya know? I guess some cases just get to you more than others."

Castiel frowns. "They used to like each other? But Mary looks at him like he's a _monster_ or something."

"'cause he _is_ a monster," Dean says with adamance. "My mom did everythin' she could to help him. She really thought there was somethin' good in him. And then one day, he - well, he just… he just _snapped_."

"What do you mean?"

"They were havin' one of their sessions, and things got outta hand. No one really knows what happened, but basically… the sonofabitch attacked her."

Castiel's stomach churns. "What? No… No, he wouldn't -"

"It's the truth, Cas. I couldn't believe it either, not at first. But god, if you'd seen her… the way she was actin' after it happened," Dean bites his lip, probably to keep his voice from shaking. "She disappeared for a long time. She treated him like one of her own, and he did that to her. She wasn't herself for _months_ , Cas. All she'd do was sit at home, starin' at the walls. I thought I'd lost her, all 'cause of that twisted asshat and his short temper."

"But… But what did he do exactly?"

"She never went into details, just told the police that he had her up against the wall. She wasn't injured much, but her mind? It was broken," Dean clears his throat and releases a sigh. "He broke my mom. Fuck knows what he said to her, but he _broke_ her, and I'll never forgive him for that."

Castiel doesn't know what to say. A part of him wants to defend Lucifer - don't ask him why, because he doesn't really know himself. But then he sees the pain in Dean's face, the way his jaw trembles as he tries to hold back the tears shining in his eyes. He doesn't even want to imagine how bad Mary must have been to make Dean act like this; he knows how much he loves his mom, so watching her retreat into herself like that must have been tough. God knows it was tough for him and Anna. Their mom left without warning; one day she was packing their lunches for school, and the next she was lying on the couch at two in the afternoon with a bottle of scotch dangling from her hands. He knows how difficult it is to see someone you love crumble before your eyes, without being able to do anything about it.

"I'm sorry, Dean," He whispers, touching his boyfriend's shoulder as gently as he can. "All this time, I've been shouting at you for the way you treat him… but now I understand."

"It's fine, Cas. You didn't know."

"I still should've trusted your judgement. I kept thinking there was a different side to him, but maybe I was wrong."

Dean doesn't say anything to that, just squeezes his hand and kisses the top of his head. Castiel melts against Dean's side wordlessly, allowing him to wrap an arm around his waist and pull him closer. He knows Dean would never admit to it, but he's a hugger when it comes down to it. He's the kind of person who thrives from being touched, from being _loved_. And so that's what he does; he sits there and he hugs him with everything he has, hooking his chin over Dean's shoulder as he rambles on about Christmas as if nothing happened. That's what he does, distracts himself from his problems and hopes they'll go away. Maybe it's not the healthiest solution, but at least Castiel can understand it.

It's not until his eyes wander back over to the mug lying broken on the floor that he notices the one, long crack running straight through the smiley face print. There's probably some kind of metaphor in that, but hell if he has the patience to sit down and over-analyse it. He's really not in the mood for thinking right now. It's been a long, tiresome day, and all he wants to do is close his eyes and listen to the low rumble of Dean's voice humming against his skin.


	18. Chapter 18

**Sorry for the late chapter again! Hope you enjoy it anyway... Please leave a review if you can. Every comment means the world to me. Thank you so much**

* * *

It's Christmas morning, and Castiel hasn't slept a wink. He's been lying in bed for the past eight hours, mentally preparing himself for the day ahead. It's not that he's overly worried about meeting Dean's family (he's technically already met them all before), but he knows that spending the holidays with them is going to mess with his head big time. I mean, how is he supposed to act all cushy and domestic with Dean, only to break up with him just a few days later? It's not fair on either of them. He's seriously starting to wonder if accepting Dean's invitation was a huge mistake, a moment of weakness. He just wanted one last memory to hold onto - something to get him through his uncle's gruelling punishment - but maybe he's gone and made it even more difficult for himself. What if saying goodbye to Dean proves to be all but impossible now?

Sighing, he heads for the bathroom and splashes his face with cold water. Dean will be here in half an hour to pick him up, and he isn't even dressed yet. His reflection in the mirror looks blurred and distorted. The water running down the glass seems to drag out his skin, like his flesh is melting off the bone. He wipes it clean with the sleeve of his shirt, groaning at the dark smudges beneath his eyes. He looks awful. How does a Greek God like Dean even like him anyway? His hair is constantly a mess, his bottom teeth are slightly crooked, he has a permanent 5 o'clock shadow that never goes away, no matter how much he shaves it… What could he possibly have over any other boy in town? Why the hell did Dean choose _him_? He should really come with a warning label or something - 'damaged goods; do not touch under any circumstances'. That would have saved them both a whole lot of pain. If only Dean could see sense and find someone normal, someone whose family is nice and accepting and doesn't hose them down in the garden like an animal. That's the sort of thing that people like Dean are destined for: _normalcy_.

"Just stop," He whispers to himself, gripping the rim of the sink with shaking hands. "Just… _get through today_. You can do this."

He plasters on a smile (it takes several attempts to make it look semi-genuine) and then throws on the outfit he prepared the night before. It's nothing fancy, just a pair of jeans and his snowflake jumper over a white shirt. The collar pokes out over his jumper, but Charlie said that it was stylish when he tried it on a couple of days ago, so he leaves it be. A quick glance out the window tells him it's snowing quite heavily, so he makes sure to grab his dad's trenchcoat as an extra layer before heading out the door.

His phone chimes with a text alert as he's halfway down the corridor.

 **Hey. Just pulled up** \- it reads - **See u in a bit.**

Castiel takes a deep breath and buries his phone back in his pocket. His heart is hammering like crazy as he turns the corner into the foyer, his eyes instantly finding Dean waiting with his mom by the door. As soon as Dean spots him standing there, he starts marching across the room with a huge grin on his face.

"Cas," He says, eyes twinkling as he pulls him in for a quick kiss. "Hey, man. You ready to get outta here?"

Castiel nods. "Uh, sure. Yes, okay."

"You crazy kids have fun," Gabe suddenly pops up out of nowhere, lugging a suitcase and two travel bags towards the door. "My folks just got here, so I'm off. Say Merry Christmas to Charlie for me, will ya? I'm kind of in a hurry."

Castiel frowns. "I thought her mom picked her up last night?"

"You're kiddin' me, right?"

"Why would I be kidding you? She told me her mom was coming for her early…"

Gabe gives him a strange look, dumping his bags onto the floor, and scratches his head. "I think you might've been fed a heap of lies there, Cassy."

"What do you mean?"

"Charlie doesn't even have a mom," Gabe says with an awkward shrug of his shoulders. "She died a few years ago. Car crash. That's why Charlie's here in the first place; the accident really screwed her up."

Castiel feels like a complete idiot.

"She never told me that," Dean says, a little dazedly. "Shit, I… I've never even met her mom before, but it just didn't click, ya know?"

Gabe shrugs again. "She doesn't like people feelin' sorry for her."

"So she's staying here for Christmas?" Castiel asks with a shake of his head. "No way. I can't let that happen, Dean. I can't leave her here by herself."

"Then you better go and invite her to join us," Mary says, appearing behind Castiel with a smile. "Go on. I'll get the car ready."

"Told you my mom was awesome," Dean grins.

Castiel smiles, wishing Gabe a Merry Christmas, and turns to follow Dean and go find Charlie. He waits until Dean's disappeared around the corner before glancing back over his shoulder, catching Mary's eye.

"Did you pick it up?"

"It's in the car, don't worry," She gives him a wink. "I didn't say anything."

"C'mon, Cas!"

"Thanks," He smiles shyly at Mary, then hurries to catch up with Dean before the other boy bites his head off.

They find Charlie in her room, hidden under a sea of blankets. Her eyes look slightly red and puffy when Dean yanks the sheets back, and she tries to cover her face with her hands. Castiel sits on the edge of the bed and pulls her in for a hug, rubbing soothing circles into her back. She quickly gives in and starts sobbing against his shoulder. The tears soak through his jumper and stick against his shirt, but that's the least of his worries.

"You're such an idiot," He mumbles, gently unwinding her arms from around his neck and looking her straight in the eye. "Why didn't you just tell me the truth?"

Charlie sniffs. "I didn't want you to stay behind. You and Dean are gonna have an awesome time, Cas. I just didn't wanna ruin it."

"Cas is right, Charlie. You're an idiot," Dean lifts her to her feet and kisses the top of her head in a brotherly kind of way. For a moment, it reminds him of Anna. "And my mom just invited you over for Christmas, so you can quit cryin' and haul your ass into the car, okay?"

"What? No, Dean. You don't have to -"

"Just shaddup and pack your bags. I'm hardly gonna let my best friend's girlfriend spend Christmas all by herself, am I?"

Charlie's mouth twitches with a hesitant smile, and then she's throwing herself into Dean's arms. "Oh my god, you're the best! Thank you so much! This is gonna be so cool, dudes! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Yeah, yeah. You're kinda suffocatin' me, but whatever…"

"Oops! Sorry about that."

"No worries," Dean rolls his eyes, but Castiel can see the soft smile touching his lips. He knows that Dean secretly gets a kick out of being nice to people.

They help Charlie pack her bag with some pyjamas, toiletries, and a change of clothes for the morning, and then they head back towards the car. When they pass Lucifer's room, Castiel gets the nagging urge to knock on the door and say something to him. Dean is still busy trying to cheer up Charlie with bad jokes, so Castiel takes the opportunity to slip away without being noticed.

He lifts his fist to knock on the door, but it swings open before he gets the chance.

"What do you want?" Lucifer asks gruffly. He's wearing black sweatpants and a faded shirt, and his hair is a complete mess, but Castiel is more concerned by the look in his eyes. He hasn't seen him since he smashed his mug against the floor - he's been hiding out in his room for days - but he's still shocked by his sickly complexion and bloodshot eyes. He looks like he hasn't slept properly in the past couple of weeks, and Castiel can't ignore the tiny pang of sympathy in his chest.

"You look awful," He says with a sigh. "What happened the other day?"

"Your boyfriend was being an arrogant dick, as always."

"Why? Because he was excited about Christmas? Are people not allowed to be happy just because _you're_ miserable? Sorry, Lucifer. But that's not how the world works."

Lucifer scoffs. "Don't go preaching to me, golden boy. You don't know anything about the world."

"Oh, and you do? Please, enlighten me."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Because you're the only one who's ever suffered before? Get over yourself, Lucifer."

"Your life is simple. Sure, you're obviously in here for a reason, but at least you have people who care about you back home. Who do I have? No one, that's who."

"Well, that just proves how much you know," Castiel clenches his fists. "The only person I have waiting for me back home is my sister. All the people who care about me are _here_. Because, unlike you, I actually made an effort to make friends instead of shutting myself away!"

Lucifer frowns. "But… But what about your mother? Your father -"

"I don't have any parents. Not anymore."

"So who do you live with?"

"My uncle. A man who hates every fibre of my being. But, sure. My life is so _simple_ , isn't it?"

Lucifer looks genuinely shocked for a moment, and then he clears his throat. "I… I apologise. I didn't know. I just thought that… Well, I assumed… I guess I don't know much about anything."

"Not about me, no. Maybe if you weren't so stubborn and stopped refusing my friendship, you'd know a little bit more. But I guess that's never going to happen."

"You don't want to be my friend," Lucifer says quietly, staring down at his socked feet. "I'm not a good person, Castiel, I - I've _done_ things…"

Castiel sighs. "I know about you and Mary. Well, some of it. And I'm not even going to try and understand why you'd do something like that, but a part of me just… I don't think that's all you, Lucifer. I think you're better than that, even if you don't realize it yourself."

Lucifer swallows thickly and meets his eye. "She was kind to me. I didn't want to hurt her, but… I seem to lack the ability to return the same kindness to people."

"I understand the temptation to… to _push_ people away. But trust me: it's not worth it. I don't know why you're so afraid to let anyone in - we all have our different reasons - but please, Lucifer… give kindness a try, will you? I bet you'd enjoy it."

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

Castiel shrugs. "I suppose I can relate to you. I don't think you're a monster, not deep down."

He holds Lucifer's gaze for a moment, until he can hear Dean calling his name from the foyer. A stupid, irrational part of his brain is tempted to ask if Lucifer can come as well, but he knows that it wouldn't be fair on either Dean or Mary. He's asked too much of them both already.

"Well, I guess I'll see you in a couple of days," He nods his head. "Merry Christmas, Luke."

Lucifer's throat ripples as he pulls the door closed. "Merry Christmas, Cassy."

* * *

Castiel is pleasantly surprised by Dean's house. He's not sure what he expected, but it was certainly nothing as cosy and simple as this. It's just a normal house - not too big, not too small - with a few Christmas decorations hanging off the outside. The windows are lined with flashing blue lights, and there's a wreath attached to the front door. It's nothing like the cold, grey exterior of Zachariah's house. He instantly relaxes in his seat, flashing Dean a quick smile as Mary pulls into the drive.

"Out you get," She says once the car is parked. "Dean, honey, will you grab Charlie's bag from the trunk?"

"Sure. Hang on a sec," Dean waits until Charlie and Mary have both gotten out before turning to Castiel with a nervous smile. "You ready for this?"

Castiel takes a deep breath. "I… I _think_ so. What could go wrong?"

"Hey, look at me. _Nothing's_ gonna go wrong, okay?"

"I know, I know."

"You sure you're ready?"

"Yes," He quirks a smile and takes Dean's hand. "I'm ready. I'm _excited_ actually."

"That's the spirit! C'mon, there's someone I want you to meet."

Dean quickly takes Charlie's bag into the house, and then leads Castiel around to the garage. He already knows what's coming, but the giddiness in Dean's expression is enough to make him jiggle on the spot in eagerness (plus, the jiggling helps with the freezing cold weather). He feels like he's at an unveiling for the eighth wonder of the world or something as Dean opens the garage door. It rises into the air with a dramatic hiss, slowly revealing the sleek black car hiding inside. It's shiny and classy, and even Castiel - who knows absolutely nothing about cars - can appreciate its beauty. It still has nothing on Dean's blinding smile though.

"Did I tell ya, or did I tell ya?" He grins manically as Castiel starts circling the car. "Ain't she gorgeous? 327 four barrel, 275 horses… What a badass, right?"

Castiel has no idea what horses have to do with anything, but he finds himself nodding along in agreement anyway. "She's beautiful, Dean."

"And she's gonna be mine one day. As soon as I get my real license, my dad's gonna let me fix her up."

"What's wrong with her?"

"Ah, nothin' much. She just needs a little TLC and she's good to go."

Castiel chuckles at the love-struck expression on Dean's face as he runs a hand over the hood. "Why do I get the feeling you like your car more than you like me?"

"Hey, I'm all for a bit of three-way action!"

"You're disgusting," He laughs, shoving Dean away jokingly. "If you want to engage in sexual intercourse with your car, that's perfectly fine… but leave me out of it, please."

"I would never defile my Baby like that," Dean says in mock horror. "Doesn't mean we can't get hot 'n heavy _inside_ her though."

"You know that sounds disturbing on so many levels, right?

"Yeah, it sounded better in my head."

Castile shakes his head fondly and grabs Dean's hand, pulling him close against his chest. His eyelashes are kissing his cheeks as he smiles down at Castiel, and his heart is beating fast through his flannel shirt. He's never looked more beautiful, Castiel thinks. How is he supposed to say goodbye to this?

"I can't believe you're here," Dean whispers, brushing a lock of hair away from Castiel's face.

"I can't believe it either."

"You know, I… I've never had anyone over for Christmas before. You're the first."

"Does that make me special then?"

"Damn right, it does," Dean says with a grin. "You're definitely the hottest guy I've picked up from Opal Grove before."

"Very funny."

"I know. I'm hilarious, aren't I?"

Castiel huffs and rolls his eyes, but he's smiling as he presses their lips together. It's soft and sweet, and Dean melts against him perfectly. He's going to miss these quite moments the most. To Dean, they might be tame - even forgettable - but to Castiel, they mean everything.

He's about to pull away when something hits him from behind, sending him and Dean crashing into the wall.

"Shit," Dean curses. "What the - oh, c'mon! Get outta here, ya stupid mutt."

Castiel turns around to find a large dog sitting on the floor, his long tongue lolling and dripping with saliva. His shaggy tail is thumping against the concrete ground as he flits his dark brown eyes between them both. Castiel's never been much of a dog fan (he's never really _met_ any dogs before), but even he can admit that this one is pretty cute. He didn't even know that Dean _had_ a dog.

"Hello there," He says gently, bending down to scratch behind the dog's ears. "And who might you be? Do you have a name?"

"Hey. Don't you start with the doggy-speak, Cas. That thing's the devil in disguise, I'm tellin' ya."

Castiel rolls his eyes. "It's a dog, Dean. Don't be so dramatic."

"Yeah, but it's _Sam's_ dog."

"So?"

"Well, I mean… It doesn't like anyone else!"

"He seems pretty friendly to me," Castiel smiles down at the dog, squishing its furry cheeks together. "You're a good boy, aren't you? A very good boy. Uh huh, yes you are."

"Five minutes with the frickin' dog and you start talkin' like an idiot. Ya know, they probably find that real condescendin', Cas."

"Ah, yes. You're right. He looks rather offended, doesn't he?"

"Shaddup."

"Dean's just annoyed because you're cuter than him," Castiel whispers against the dog's snout. "You probably get more attention as well, don't you?"

Dean scoffs. "My dashin' good looks would beat this hairy mutt any day."

"You keep telling yourself that."

"Bones!" A familiar voice suddenly calls from around the corner. "C'mere! C'mere, boy!"

"He's in here," Dean calls back, wrinkling his nose as the dog starts covering Castiel's face in warm, wet licks.

Sam's wearing his pyjamas when he stumbles into the garage - his long hair sticking up every which way - and the heavy bags beneath his eyes suggest he hasn't had much sleep either. Though Castiel doubts he was up all night worrying about the impending return of his uncle, and the ever-pressing need to end things with his boyfriend before things get far too difficult to throw away. No, that was probably just him.

"Oh. Hey, Cas," Sam greets him with a smile.

"Hello, Sam."

"Will you save the poor guy from your crazy-ass dog?" Dean whines, throwing his hands in the air. "The sonofabitch just _lunged_ at us!"

Sam rolls his eyes and whispers to Castiel: "Dean and Bones don't get along very well. He peed in the Impala this one time, and Dean's never gotten over it."

"Ah. That makes sense."

"Hey! Dad wouldn't let me drive her for _weeks_ after that!"

"You shouldn't have taken him out then," Sam turns back to Castiel with a smirk. "Dean used to think that picking up girls would be easier if he had a cute dog with him. Sad, right?"

Dean flushes darkly, but Castiel just laughs.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up! At least it actually worked."

"You honestly used a dog to find women?" Castiel shakes his head. "I have to agree with your brother on this one, Dean… that _is_ sad."

"It's _smart_ , is what it is."

"Mhm…"

"Mom wants you to go inside by the way," Sam hooks his fingers around Bones' collar and turns to leave. "She wants you to help Cas unpack, and then she said you've gotta entertain me and Charlie."

Dean snorts. "Seriously, Sammy? You can't amuse yourself for a couple hours?"

"Mom said she doesn't want you and Cas making out all day. She said Christmas is _family_ time."

Castiel splutters. "Did she really say that?"

"Sam's just bein' a classic bitch. Don't worry about it, Cas."

"Whatever, _jerk_. Just get inside."

It's still snowing as they step outside the garage. Castiel can feel it melting against his skin and soaking through his trenchcoat, but Dean's arm is warm around his waist. They jog up to the front door and shake off their clothes. Dean's cheek are a delightful shade of pink from the cold, and the dark flush of his skin is enough to bring out the freckles peppering his face. As soon as he opens the door, they're hit with a wall of heat and golden light that spills out onto the frosty porch.

"Woah! Close the door," Charlie squeaks from the bottom of the stairs, hugging her arms around her body. "It's _freezing_ , dudes!"

Dean presses a hand against the small of his back and ushers him inside. As soon as the door closes behind them, Castiel drops his bag onto the floor, mouth hanging slightly open, and looks around the house in a daze. Everything is so cosy and warm, with just the right amount of clutter to make it feel properly lived-in. There's an artificial tree standing in the lounge to his left, decked with clashing colours of baubles and tinsel that hang about the plastic leaves in a messy fashion. The angel on top is kind of wonky too, but Castiel can't help but think that it's the best tree he's ever seen - far better than anything Naomi's put up in Zachariah's house before. Though he doesn't quite understand the coat hangers hidden amongst the other decorations.

"It's tradition," Dean murmurs against his ear, wrapping his arms around him from behind. "My mom's folks never approved of my dad, not at first anyway. So this one year, they ran away together. They were only kids, but they still managed to get half away across the country without bein' caught."

Castiel huffs a laugh. "So that's where you got flightiness from."

"Ha-ha. Anyway… It was Christmas. They were broke, and all they could afford was some crappy motel room in the middle of nowhere. But my dad didn't wanna disappoint my mom, ya know? So this is what he did: middle of the night, he found some branches, duct taped them together, and decorated them with coat hangers. It was the closest thing he could get to a Christmas tree, but my mom loved it. And now it's kinda just stuck."

Castiel doesn't say a word, just smiles softly and turns in Dean's arms, pressing their lips together. He doesn't care that Charlie is sitting just a few feet away, or that Dean's parents could walk in at any moment; he just loves this boy far too much to control himself sometimes.

"Hey," John Winchester's booming voice calls from the kitchen doorway. "Quit playin' tonsil hockey and unpack those damn bags, Dean. And take that dog out before it knocks somethin' over with that tail of his!"

Dean groans. "You bought the frickin' dog for _Sam_ , remember?"

"Don't answer back, boy! Just do what you're told."

"Yeah, yeah! I'm doin' it," Dean sighs, then turns back to Castiel with a shrug. "He'll say hi to you afterwards. He just gets stressed out in the kitchen."

"Oh, that's fine."

"You wanna take your stuff upstairs?"

"Sure."

Dean tells Charlie to stay put, and then they head upstairs. Castiel is kind of (very) nervous about being in Dean's room for the first time. Yes, they've spent the night together more than once at Opal Grove, but that was nothing special. This is a place where Dean probably spends most of his time - sleeping, reading, doing homework… This is his personal space, and he's allowing Castiel to share it with him. It's a big deal!

"It's there on the left," Dean nods his head to the door with the crinkled AC/DC poster on it. "Just let yourself in, I guess."

Castiel opens the door slowly, as if something might leap out at him from the other side. The room is square and smallish, with dark blue walls and a single bed with wrinkled sheets. There's a distinct smell of _Dean_ in the air (and no, that isn't creepy at all). It's an earthy scent, like a mix of woodchips and grass, with the faint underlying whiff of cigarette smoke and gasoline. There's a pile of clothes sitting in the corner, and a few socks thrown across the floor, but it's fairly tidy other than that. He can sees bits of Dean everywhere he turns, pieces of him he'll never get to properly know and understand - the English books scattering his desk, the certificate for best mechanics project hanging above his bed, the old photo of him and Sam as kids playing at the beach sitting on the windowsill, the Dr. Sexy MD boxset hidden on his shelf… He'll never get the chance to explore every part of Dean, to ask him about his past and discover all of his little quirks. _This is it_. He feels like he's standing at the edge of something beautiful, something he doesn't deserve and can never have.

"It's, uh… It's a little messy," Dean says, hurrying to pick up the odd socks and stuff them into a drawer. "You can just put your bag over there, or on the floor… I don't mind. You wanna unpack it now or later? Aw, shit… I forgot to make the bed. Uh, just hang on a sec -"

"Dean," Castiel chuckles, placing a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Stop panicking."

"What? I'm not panicking! What are you -"

"Just take a breath."

"Cas, I don't -"

"Your heart is racing, Dean. Just calm down… I don't care about the bed. I think it's wonderful. _All_ of this, it's… It's wonderful."

Dean swallows thickly, his shoulders sagging. "I just want it to be perfect, ya know? This is gonna be your first proper Christmas, and I… I didn't wanna disappoint you."

"You could never disappoint me."

"Pretty sure I could."

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," Castiel brushes his nose against Dean's jaw, winding his arms around his waist. "Do you really think a few socks on the floor is going to change that?"

Dean huffs. "Your uncle… he's rich, right? I just figured you were used to everything bein', well… _immaculate_."

"My uncle is obsessive; his thirst for perfection is unhealthy. I'd much rather this."

"A boxy room with a view of my backyard? Yeah, sure."

"Trust me, Dean. This is perfect compared to Zachariah's prison."

Dean's face softens. "M'sorry, Cas. I didn't mean… I know I've got it good. _Really_ good. I just, I dunno… I worry I'm not good enough for you sometimes."

"Why the hell would you think that?"

"We've all got our issues, man. Guess mine's just paranoia."

"Well, stop it," Castiel says frustratedly. "Stop thinking like that. You're an idiot if you don't think you're good enough for me. I'm the mental patient, remember? It should be the other way around."

Dean rests his hands on Castiel's hips and kisses his forehead. "How about we both stop hatin' on ourselves for one day? Just pretend we're a couple of normal guys."

"I would like that very much."

"We should start with a heavy make out session," Dean grins against his temple. "That's what normal teenage guys do, right? The horny bastards have sex on the brain constantly."

"Well, maybe you _are_ normal after all."

"I resent that," Dean says as he starts kissing along Castiel's neck, gently tugging at the shoulders of his trenchcoat until it falls to the ground. "I like you for _so_ much more than your body, Cas."

"Oh, sure," Castiel laughs, gasping as Dean latches onto his throat. "I can see that."

Dean strips off his jacket, and then they're kissing relentlessly in the middle of the room. There are hands in his hair and lips against his skin as they stumble onto the bed. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears, blocking out everything else around them. Dean starts mouthing at the bare expanse of skin beneath the collar of his sweater, chuckling at the snowflake pattern stitched across the front.

"You know I love this thing," He smiles, running a hand down his chest. "D'you wear it on purpose?"

"It's the only Christmas-themed clothing I own."

"Excuses, excuses…"

Dean hooks his legs around Castiel's thighs so he's straddling his lap, grinning down at him with rosy cheeks. His hair is slightly flattened by the snow, but Castiel soon fixes that by running his fingers through it. Their chests are pressed together as Dean leans down to kiss him again, and he can feel his heart beating just as manically against his skin. They're kissing and laughing and cuddling all at once, and it's kind of amazing… He's never felt like this before, never wanted something so fiercely. He's not sure how to handle it.

"You're so gorgeous," Dean mumbles against his lips. "So fuckin' perfect."

"I don't think -"

"Just take the frickin' compliment, Cas."

Dean sits up and takes Castiel's hands, turning them over and kissing the fading cuts on his palms. Castiel tries to pull them away, embarrassed, but Dean simply squeezes his wrists and sighs.

"Don't do that," He whispers. "Don't hide yourself away from me."

"It's not exactly attractive."

"You really think a few scars are gonna turn me off? It's not like you did it on purpose… You're _not_ broken, ya hear me? We all do stupid crap now 'n again."

"It's not that simple, Dean… You _know_ it's not."

"You're right," He cups his face, leaning their foreheads together. "But I don't care. I mean, obviously I don't want you hurtin' yourself, but you're not gonna scare me away that easily. We can get past this, Cas, just… just let me help you, man."

Castiel nuzzles against Dean's hand and smiles. "You _do_ help, Dean. More than you realize."

"I just want you to forget all of that bad stuff for once."

"It's not easy, but I'll try."

"You shouldn't have to _try_ , Cas. That's the thing."

"Small steps," Castiel murmurs, linking their fingers together. "Who knows? Maybe I won't have to try one day."

"I'm gonna make damn sure of it."

Castiel chuckles, though his heart is screaming in agony. "I believe you."

"Good… 'cause I keep my promises."

"I'll hold you to that."

Dean kisses his knuckles once more before standing up, offering his hand out. "C'mon then. You ready to go experience a real Christmas?"

Castiel takes his hand and smiles. "Definitely."

* * *

Dean decides to entertain Sam and Charlie by taking them outside. There's a thick layer of snow on the ground already, and it's still coming down fast. Castiel is standing by the porch with his hands in his sleeves while everyone else is busy making a snowman. Sam and Dean are rolling the separate balls for the body, and Charlie is collecting decorations for the face.

"Hey, Cas," Dean waves him over. "C'mon! Get your ass in gear!"

Castiel shakes his head. "I'd rather not freeze to death."

"Aw, don't be such a baby!"

"The cold just doesn't agree with me."

"Suck it up!"

"Suck _what_ up?"

"Get over here and help us roll this thing. It's harder than it looks, ya know!"

Castiel sighs and trudges his way over to Sam and Dean. They've so far managed to roll a ball to the size of a space hopper, which is admittedly quite impressive.

"I don't see the point in this activity."

"Look, I didn't come up with it," Dean says, cracking his knuckles in front of him. "It's just a thing people do."

"But why?"

"Don't question it, man. Just roll with it… Get it? _Roll_."

Castiel raises an eyebrow. "Really? Is that the best you can come up with?"

"Oh, c'mon! That was a good one."

"It was awful," Sam says as he slaps more snow onto the ball. "You've gotta stop laughing at your own jokes, Dean."

"Yeah. Maybe when I stop bein' frickin' hilarious, I'll do that."

Together, they roll three balls of snow (each about half the size of the one before it) and somehow manage to put them together without destroying anything. It's then Charlie's turn to create her masterpiece - two muddy pieces of snow for the eyes, an acorn for the nose, a bent twig for the mouth, and three stones for the buttons on his non-existent coat. Castiel tries tilting his head to the side, but it doesn't matter what angle he looks at it from; their snowman is absolutely terrifying. He's not really sure that's how it's supposed to go.

"That's freaky as hell," Dean mutters, raking his eyes up and down their creation. "Maybe we should've taken the more traditional route... A carrot and all that, ya know?"

After letting Bones run the snowman down by throwing a stick at it, Dean introduces him to the art of snow _angels_ (which basically involves lying in the snow and moving your arms up and down). Castiel is too busy trying not to turn into a block of ice to worry about how stupid he must look right now. Dean is lying on the ground beside him, flapping his arms with a huge grin on his face, and yet he _still_ looks adorable. How is that fair?

"You havin' fun yet?"

Castiel shoots him a glare. "If I get pneumonia, I'm blaming you."

"Fair enough."

Their snow angels - though undoubtedly less disturbing than the snowman - don't really look like angels at all. The final result is basically two large dents in the snow. Dean tries to point out the shape to him ("That's your head, and those are you wings, see?"), but Castiel isn't having any of it. His imagination must be seriously lacking or something. But at least he gets to enjoy the delightful image of Dean with snow all over his face and clothes; for some reason, he looks rather handsome in white.

"Okay. I'm gonna try one last thing with you," Dean says with a look of steely determination.

Castiel folds his arms. "And what might that be?"

Dean responds by grabbing a handful of snow and throwing it right in his face. The initial shock dampens the cold for a brief moment, and then the ice dripping down his neck snaps him back into reality.

"Did you just start a snowball fight?"

Dean grins. "You got me."

"You have no idea what you've just gotten yourself into," Castiel narrows his eyes before quickly seeking refuge behind a large tree. "Let the war commence!"

"Oh, it's _on_ , Novak!"

The next half an hour is spent hurling snow at each other. It's the Winchesters vs the nutters, with Charlie teaming up with Castiel, and Sam opting to fight on his brother's side. Castiel hasn't had a snowball fight in years; in fact, he can barely remember having one at all. He may be freezing, and his aim is pretty terrible, but there's something quite exhilarating about throwing large amounts of snow at Dean. Charlie turns out to be the master of snowball fights, somehow managing to hit Dean directly in the face several times. It isn't until they're all soaked through to the bone with melted snow that they call a truce, collapsing against the porch in a pile.

"That was fun," Castiel says breathlessly.

Dean gives him a lazy smile and drapes an arm around his shoulder. "I knew you couldn't resist a good ol' snowball fight. It's up there with sledding."

"I've never been sledding before either."

"You're kiddin' me, right?" Dean gives him a look of astonishment. "Okay, I know what we're doin' next year."

Castiel forces a smile, though the thought of next Christmas fills him with dread. By then, Dean will be nothing but a good memory. His uncle will probably have him hidden away from society in some dark room surrounded by crosses. The very idea makes him feel sick to his stomach.

"Hey. You okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Castiel shakes his head, trying to keep his hands from shaking. "Just thinking."

"Oh Yeah? What about?"

"Well," He scrambles for a semi-convincing lie. "Just that I, um… I've never been kissed in the snow before. I wonder what it's like."

The worry instantly melts from Dean's face, a smirk slipping into place. "I'm sure I can help you with that."

His breath catches as Dean takes hold of his scarf (Mary lent it to him) and crashes their lips together. It's like any other kiss, only his skin is bright red and he's shivering all over. Though he has to admit, there _is_ a certain magical quality about being surrounded by falling flakes of snow at the same time. Just like so many moments spent with Dean, it feels like a scene from a movie. He likes to imagine for a moment that he's the protagonist of some fairy tale with a happy ending in sight. Now _that_ would be pleasant.

"So," Dean grins as they pull apart. "What d'you think?"

"I'd give it a six out of ten."

"What? You serious?!"

Castiel laughs. "You really _are_ paranoid, aren't you? It was great, of course. A solid eight and a half."

"You're an asshole, you know that?"

"I aim to please."

Just then, Mary opens the door, and the intoxicating smell of turkey wafts through the air. Dean almost slips over in his haste to jump to his feet, his eyes lighting up with childlike excitement.

"Is it ready? _Please_ tell me it's ready? I'm frickin' _starvin_ ' out here!"

Mary puts her hands on her hips. "You say that everyday day, Dean. Now stop whinging and get inside before you freeze to death."

Everything is laid out on a white cloth with reindeers running about the hem, with alternating napkins and plastic cups of red and green circling the table. Dean drags Castiel over to the back end (Dean takes a green place, and Castiel a red), and they both settle down in the nice _warm_ room. Between each space is also a cracker; Zachariah doesn't approve of such things, so Castiel's never had the chance to pull one before. Dean catches him staring at it longingly, and a fond smile tugs at his lips.

"Hang on, Cas. We all do it together."

"Really?"

"Mhm. I guess you could say it's another family tradition."

Charlie sits next to Mary on Castiel's right, and Sam takes the seat to Dean's left. They all wait patiently (and yes, Castiel's stomach is growling by this point) as John brings out the turkey on a huge plate. Just like Bobby's cooking, it looks absolutely sublime. His narrow little mind always assumed that women did the cooking and men were more or less banned from the kitchen, but he's starting to see past that stereotype now.

"Oh, momma," Dean rubs his hands together. "You guys don't want any of that, do you?"

Sam leans around Dean to speak to Castiel and Charlie. "He's not even joking. Last year, he ate about half the turkey all by himself."

"Don't listen to him, Cas. He's lyin'."

"You know the truth."

"It was more like a _third_ , thank you very much."

"Still pretty gross."

"You know what else is gross? You're face. Yeah, I went there."

"Ouch, Dean. That really hurt."

John sighs. "How about you both shut up and pass me your goddamn plates."

The food is heaped on in massive piles - mash potato, stuffing, parsnips, gravy, peas, carrots, pigs in blankets, roast potatoes, and so much more… And of course, there's the turkey. Castiel thought he was hungry before, but now he just feels intimidated. Still, he's willing to give it a try.

"Before we start," Mary says with a mischievous smile. "Everyone grab your crackers!"

Castiel takes the end of each cracker next to him (with Dean holding one, and Charlie holding the other). Once everyone's linked together, the Winchesters start a countdown that Charlie quickly joins in with. Castiel just flits his eyes around the table nervously, not exactly sure what happens when you pull a cracker in the first place. He always assumed it must be dangerous if his uncle wouldn't allow it.

"Okay, go!"

And then everyone's snapping their hands back, followed by a series of pops and squeals, and random objects flying about the place. Castiel jumps as a pair of small, red dice clatter on the table in front of him. He didn't know that there were _gifts_ involved in pulling crackers!

"Aw, crap. I got the stinkin' fish again," Dean grumbles.

Castiel glances over at Dean, who seems to be cradling a small, orange piece of paper in his hands. After a closer look, he notices the shape of the fish.

"It says it can read your fortune," Castiel reads off the paper in awe.

Dean smiles at him bemusedly. "You wanna try?"

"Okay," He says, grinning as Dean places the fish on the palm of his hand. He almost jumps back when it starts to curl in on itself, with the head and the tail lifting up in the air. It must be some kind of sorcery. "Quick, Dean! What does that mean?!"

Dean's cheeks are pink as he looks down at the slip of paper. "It, uh… It's says you're in love."

"Oh," Castiel blushes, shoving the fish back into the plastic wrapping. "That's, um… That's an interesting trick."

"Yeah, I guess," Dean clears his throat. " _Anyway_ … Where's your hat gone?"

Castiel picks up the flimsy paper hat from inside his half-torn cracker. It certainly doesn't look big enough to fit around his head, even when he opens it up to full size.

"You got a blue one," Dean smiles lopsidedly. "Figures. Here, lemme put it on for you."

Castiel sits still as Dean somehow adjusts the size of the hat and places it on top of his head. His cheeks are still flushed slightly from the fish situation, but Castiel is too entranced by the hypnotic shade of his eyes to worry about being embarrassed; the green looks unnaturally bright in this lighting, and Dean honestly looks like something out of a dream. It's actually making him feel quite dizzy.

"There," Dean whispers, letting his hands linger for a moment. "It fits."

When they turn back to the table, everyone is staring at them with raised eyebrows. Castiel feels an instant blush creeping up his neck, but he soon relaxes at the goofy smile that breaks out across Charlie's face.

"That was frickin' adorable!"

And then they all start to dig in. Castiel's so carried away by the festivities that he almost forgets one of the most important things… He can't believe he almost missed it. What does that say about him? How can he possibly start his meal without it, after everything he's done?

"Hey," Dean nudges him in the arm. "What's wrong?"

Castiel swallows. "I… I need to say grace."

"Oh, shit. I didn't even think -"

"No," He shakes his head, placing a hand on Dean's arm. "It's not your fault, I just… My uncle wouldn't want me to miss it. I promised him I'd pray."

Dean takes his hand and looks him in the eye. "Do _you_ wanna pray, Cas?"

"I… I don't know."

"It's a simple question; you either do, or you don't."

Castiel takes a breath. "I… I _don't_."

"Okay then," Dean smiles softly, shrugging his shoulders. "Then don't. No one's gonna force ya."

Castiel feels a tiny thrill of rebellion buzzing beneath his skin as he picks up his fork and stabs a piece of turkey, lifting it to his lips with a shaking hand. His uncle would be more than disappointed if he knew about this; he'd be _furious_ in fact. But for some insane reason, he really doesn't care.

"You good?"

"Yes," A hesitate smile touches his lips. "I really am."

Dean gives him a grin. "Good."

As they all sit there, eating and talking and making jokes, Castiel actually feels like he belongs for once. This is a family who's welcomed him into their home, offered him their food, treated him with _kindness_ … He's never felt so appreciative before. He could almost believe that this is a regular occurrence, that he's been spending Christmas with the Winchesters for years. Everything is so close to perfect, he almost wants to cry. The only thing missing is his sister. He tries to imagine this entire situation with Anna included, sitting across from him with that bright red hair and toothy smile. His heart clenches at the very thought. If only he could have it all, if only his uncle was more accepting of who he is. Maybe things would be different. But for now, they're not, and so this is what he has to settle for. It's not perfect, but it's _close_ to perfect, and maybe that's enough.

* * *

After playing some games and opening presents, they all decide to collapse onto the sofa (still stuffed from dinner and barely mobile) to watch a Christmas movie. Like Dean predicted, Sam settles on 'It's a Wonderful Life', which of course is a 'classic' that Castiel has never heard of or watched before. It turns out to be quite an interesting film set around the life of George Bailey, a man who believes his very existence is pointless, and thus tries to end it by jumping off a bridge. Castiel would never admit how close the message hits home (Dean still doesn't know about that side of him yet), but he finds himself drawn into the plot. By the time the movie reaches an end and everything is resolved, Castiel is filled with a warm glow of satisfaction.

"I like this film," He whispers to Dean as everyone starts singing Auld Lang Syne around the Christmas tree. "It's _hopeful_ , isn't it?"

Dean leans his head against Castiel's and smiles. "Yeah, I guess. Even after watching it for the tenth time."

"I'd love to have a life like George Bailey."

"You seriously want that many kids runnin' about the place?"

"Okay, minus a couple of children."

Dean chuckles. "Yeah, I guess his life's pretty sweet. Or I guess I should say… _wonderful_."

Castiel rolls his eyes and huffs a laugh. "It really is."

Once the credits start rolling, everyone else rouses from their sleepy states (Sam is actually already asleep on the floor, bent over a book of scientology that Dean bought him as a present) and John flicks the TV off. It's almost midnight, which means Christmas is over soon, and Castiel can feel the familiar bundle of nerves knotting in his stomach. After today, once Mary's dropped him back off at Opal Grove, he's going to have to start acting cool around Dean, make him lose interest. There'll be no more quick kisses in the hallway, or sneaky nights spent together behind everyone's backs. This is the last night Castiel will allow himself to make his real feelings known; the next couple of weeks will be spent behind a mask of frosty indifference. Until Dean comes to realize that he could do so much better than Castiel, he's going to have to keep pushing him further and further away.

"I'm gonna take this one to bed," John whispers, lifting a still-sleeping Sam into his arms and draping him over his shoulder. Castiel tries to remember a time when his own father carried him to bed, but he draws a blank. He's not sure his dad was ever the doting kind of parent; he was mainly there by obligation.

While John is busy with Sam, Mary helps Charlie set up the spare room. It was initially where Castiel was going to sleep, but then Charlie was invited unexpectedly. Castiel doubts that Mary would condone him and Dean sharing a single bed together, so the couch is probably his best bet. He hates to think that he might have already spent his last night with Dean without even realizing. He'll never again wake up to the smell of woodchips tickling his nostrils, or the warmth of Dean's arms wrapped around his waist. He'll never feel Dean nuzzling against the nape of his neck in the middle of the night, or hear the rhythmic beating of his heart in the silence of a dark room. Their time together is slowly trickling through his fingers, like loose grains of sand. He can _feel_ it fading away.

"I'm beat," Dean says with a yawn, stretching his arms above his head. "You ready to hit the hay?"

Castiel glances down at the couch glumly. "I suppose so…"

"Well, c'mon then."

"What?"

"You wanna go to bed, right?"

Castiel frowns. "Yes, but… I just assumed that I'd be sleeping down here."

"Huh? What the hell gave you that idea?"

"Well, I mean… Your bed is… Well, it's, um… It's rather small, don't you think? I doubt we'll both fit in it together."

Dean smirks. "Guess we'll just have to snuggle _real_ close then."

"And your parents… they're fine with this?"

"Stop worryin'," Dean chuckles, grabbing Castiel's arm and leading him out of the room. "S'not like we're gonna be havin' wild, passionate sex all night long… Unless that's on the cards?"

Castiel gives him a glare.

"Yeah, I figured not. S'all good! I'm down for cuddlin'."

"Are you _sure_ they're okay with this?"

Dean practically shoves him through the bedroom door and rolls his eyes. " _Yes_ , Cas. I wouldn't lie to you, okay? My mom said it was fine, and my dad probably couldn't care less."

"But -"

"Look, d'you want your present or not?"

Castiel's mouth drops open. "My… My what?"

"Your present, Cas. Ya know, _Christmas_ present? D'you really think I wouldn't get you anythin'?"

"I just… I didn't think."

"Well, you're an idiot. Go sit yourself down on the damn bed and close your eyes, alright?"

"Dean -"

"C'mon, Cas! For me?"

And of course that's enough to make him do as he's told. He takes a seat at the foot of the bed and closes his eyes as per instruction, fingers tapping anxiously against his thigh as he waits for Dean's return. He can hear footsteps creaking across the floor, and then a dull _thump_ as Dean puts whatever it is he's just retrieved onto his desk. Castiel's breath catches as something touches his shoulder, but he quickly recognizes it as Dean's hand as fingers ghost his skin, and warm breath flutters against his lips.

"Okay… You can open 'em now, Cas."

Once he finally opens his eyes, what he finds is enough to make his heart stutter… Sitting on the desk is a large glass bowl filled with water, and swimming around inside is a tiny orange fish.

"Dean, what -"

"I know it's not a yellow house… I'm workin' on that one, trust me. But I just figured, ya know… Baby steps, right? Now you've a fish to give a stupid-ass name to," Dean licks his lips and smiles. "And before you start panickin', I've already cleared it with Bobby; he gave me the okay a couple weeks ago. He said you can keep him in your room at Opal Grove. Actually, I dunno if it's a he or a she… Do fish even _have_ genitals, I mean -"

Castiel cuts him off with a kiss. He grabs his unfairly adorable face and he crashes their lips together, swallowing the yelp of surprise that slips out of Dean's mouth. It's messy and uncoordinated, but Castiel just doesn't care; all that matters right now is kissing this boy until neither one of them can breathe anymore. You know how he said that it was kind of hard to control his love for Dean sometimes? Well, this is one of those moments. He's being fuelled by pure desire - pure, irrepressible, _sinful_ desire.

"You got me a fish," He laughs hysterically, still trailing kisses up and down Dean's neck. "All I made you was a stupid apple pie!"

Dean pulls back with wide eyes. "You made me a pie? Where?!"

"Your mother smuggled it in her car… It probably doesn't even taste very good."

"You made me a frickin' _pie_?!"

"Yes, I -"

And this time, it's Dean's turn to cut him off. They both wrap their arms around each other desperately, kissing and moaning and smiling uncontrollably… They almost fall onto the bed for the second time today, but Dean somehow manages to break the kiss and calm them both down. Castiel just stares into Dean's eyes as their foreheads press together, fingers trembling as he reaches forward to touch Dean's bottom lip.

"Cas," Dean almost says something else, but stops himself, throat rippling as he cups Castiel's face. "I'm really glad you're here, man."

Castiel leans into Dean's touch and smiles. "Me too."

They spend the next hour or so lying on the bed in the dark, kissing slowly and deeply until they're both too tired to continue. Castiel rests his head against Dean's chest and winds their legs together; it's the only way for them to fit properly on the small bed without falling off. Not that he's complaining. This is probably the first time he's slept with Dean without breaking some kind of rule. It's strange, not having that constant feeling of worry gnawing at the back of his mind. He can just lie here, drawing patterns against Dean's skin without a care in the world, and no one is going to stop him. What else could he possibly ask for?

He waits for Dean's breathing to even out before sitting up slightly, propping himself up on his elbows and looking down at Dean's face. His expression is peaceful, save the few times his nose twitches in his sleep. He doesn't want to think about this being his last chance to be so close to Dean, to watch over him without being shamed or wrongfully judged by his bigoted uncle. But it's pretty hard to ignore what keeps creeping closer and closer with every passing second. Like it or not, this _thing_ he has going on right now - this little bubble of blissful ignorance blocking out all the impending hatred from his family - it's coming to an end very soon. He feels like he's trapped in a room with the walls closing in, only the temptation to just let them crush him is all too strong. But he can't do that to Anna. He _won't_. Even if it means sacrificing all of this.

"The fish was right by the way," He whispers through the tears streaming silently down his face, knowing too well that Dean can't hear a word he's saying. "I just… I hope some part of you knows that."


	19. Chapter 19

**This chapter's a little bit angsty, so sorry about that... I hope you enjoy it anyway! Please leave a review if you can. Thanks, guys :)**

* * *

Balthazar's office seems so cold compared to Mary's. It's impersonal, you know? There's no pictures or diplomas hanging on the walls, no keepsakes or lucky charms on the desk, no glimpse into a life outside of this office… He wonders if Balthazar even has a family. Is he one of those middle-aged men who's married to their job? One of those people who hides behind sarcasm and quick wit to mask the real pain inside? Castiel almost feels sorry for him. Sure, he comes across as a complete and utter ass who spends most of their sessions cracking jokes and sipping on mysterious drinks stashed beneath his desk, but he's actually a decent guy. Castiel can't help but feel like he's seeing a future version of himself when he looks at Balthazar, a man with a cryptic past who now lives a life of desolation without a single family photo to his name. The thought that he could end up like that makes him want to vomit, but he knows how much Balthazar works to keep his cream coloured carpet clean.

"Have you been listening to a word I've said?"

Castiel almost leaps out of his chair when he opens his eyes to find Balthazar standing right in front of him. His grey blue eyes are narrowed suspiciously (not with concern; Balthazar doesn't _do_ concern) and the lines in his forehead are furrowed together tightly.

"What? Did you say something?"

"Oh, I've only been rambling on for the past ten minutes," Balthazar rolls his eyes and steps back. "You seem even sketchier than normal. What's up, Cassy?"

"Nothing, it's… it's nothing."

"And the award for worst bloody liar in the country goes to -"

"Balthazar, please," Castiel scrubs a hand over his face, hissing as the old cuts on his hands catch against his skin. "I really don't need this right now."

"Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but you do realize we're in a session, don't you?"

"That doesn't mean I have to tell you anything."

"Aha! So there _is_ something?"

"No, that's not -"

"You may as well tell me now, Cassy. I can be rather persistent."

Castiel bites his lip, revelling in the coppery tang against his tongue. These past few days have been tough; it's been a week since Christmas, and things are quickly taking a turn for the worst. He didn't know he could hate himself more than he already did, but pushing everyone away is proving to be more difficult than he imagined. He hasn't spoken a word to Charlie and Gabe since Mary dropped him back off at Opal Grove (he's been hiding away in his room for the most part), and avoiding Dean's texts has become the norm. He feels like hes sitting on an island in the middle of the ocean, the water stretching further and further away with each passing second. He's never felt so disconnected before in his life.

"It's about Dean," He says, clearing his throat. "Things have been… Well, they haven't been great. I've, um… I haven't spoken to him since Christmas, so -"

"Please don't tell me you've bloody gone and done it."

"Not yet, no."

"But you still plan on breaking up with the poor bastard?"

"Don't try and make me feel even more guilty about this, Balthazar! You really think this is _easy_?"

"I think you're making the cowardly decision to run away, if that's what you mean."

Castiel balls his fists and closes his eyes. He can feel his phone buzzing in his pocket again, practically burning a bigger and bigger hole every time he chooses to ignore it. There's no point in checking who it is; it's not like he has a long list of people anxiously trying to get a hold of him.

"Oh, I see," Balthazar folds his arms. "You're giving him the good old fashioned silent treatment, ay? Because that one _always_ seems to work out."

"What's your problem?" Castiel growls, turning his phone on silent with a frustrated punch of his finger. "It's not like I'm doing this for some cheap thrill! It's _killing_ me not being able to talk to him!"

"The only person stopping you from answering that phone is _you_."

"Ah, yes. You're right. It all seems so simple now! I'll just talk to Dean and pretend that everything is normal. It's bound to sort itself out, isn't it?"

"Oh, but avoiding him until the very last second is a better option? Cassy, you need to _think_ about this -"

"I _have_ thought about it!" Castiel cries. He can't seem to control the tremors running through his body, or the way his nails keeping scratching against his palms in agitation. "Every day since the moment I realized I couldn't have him forever, it's _all_ I've been thinking about… But no matter what way I look at it, I can't see an alternative. This is how it _has_ to happen, Balthazar. There is no 'better option', but this is by far the fairest."

Balthazar presses his lips together. "Fair on who, Cassy?"

"In the long run… It's fair on everyone involved."

"I'm sorry, but I fail to see how separating two boys who are clearly madly in love with each other could possibly be _fair_. And what about your sister? Do you honestly think she's going to feel good when she finds out that the only reason you gave all this up was for her sake?"

"I'm not leaving her with a man like that."

"A man like _what_ , Castiel? What exactly has your uncle done to warrant this… this _hatred_? This _fear_? Because I get the feeling it's more than just a few homophonic slurs."

Castiel swallows thickly. "It's nothing, okay? He… He's hasn't _done_ anything."

"Cassy, you know -"

"For the last time: there's _nothing_ going on with Zachariah! He's just _strict_ , like every other guardian!"

"Only most guardians wouldn't send a teenage boy to a mental institution for being gay."

"What do you want me to do? It's his religion."

"Exactly. It's _his_ religion. Not yours."

"But he's my uncle!"

"So what? My great-grandfather was a bloody cross-dresser, but you don't see me trailing the streets in a pencil skirt and a pair of heels, do you?"

Castiel frowns. "I hardly think you can make a comparison between the two."

"My point is: we're all unique individuals, Cassy. You can't force yourself to believe in God any more than you can force yourself to like girls. It's just a fact of life."

"But… But I can learn -"

"No, you can't."

"There has to be a way to convince myself that I'm normal!"

"So you're going to _convince_ yourself to marry some poor girl and live 'happily ever after'?"

Castiel drops his head and sighs. "I don't know…"

"Do you really think you'll be able to commit your entire life to a loveless relationship, knowing that you let that one person you _truly_ care about slip away?"

"I said I don't know!"

"Well, that's something you're going to have to consider," Balthazar shrugs. "Seems to me you haven't really thought about this at all."

Castiel lifts his head with a groan, still scratching madly at his palms. "Stop trying to get inside my head."

"That's not what this is, Cassy."

"You've been my counsellor for over a month now, and you've _never_ been this interested in my life before! Why are you suddenly asking all these questions?"

Balthazar stares at him for a moment, then disappears behind his desk to pour himself a drink. It's only coffee for a change; Castiel can smell it from his seat. There's an unusual fragility in Balthazar's expression as he sits down in his chair, propping his chin upon his joined hands, and looks at Castiel with a sigh.

"I'm going to tell you something that's _probability_ not allowed… but what the hell."

Castiel doesn't say anything, just looks back at him.

"When I was just a lad - a few years younger than you, I'd say - I saw my father push my mother down the stairs. He was drunk and she was in the way… you know the drill. It was just a typical Tuesday night for me; I'd seen my father beat her bloody plenty of times, even taken a few hits myself. My mother, she made me vow not to tell anyone. She was scared they wouldn't believe her, that my father would get angry and the punishments would only get worse… She was so consumed by fear, she didn't even realize how much danger she was putting herself in by staying. And then she fell down those stairs and never woke up again," Castiel's eyes drop to the ground, too guilty to hold Balthazar's watery gaze for any longer. "Not a day goes by that I don't blame myself for not putting a stop to it. My mother had convinced me that laying low and playing the part would keep us safe, but that's the very attitude that lead to her death."

Castiel shakes his head. "Why are you telling me this? My uncle's never pushed me down the stairs before. He's not _like_ that, alright?"

"You can keep lying to everyone around you, Cassy, but it's never going to go away."

"Look, I… I'm sorry about your mother. I really am. But that's not my life! My uncle and I… we don't get along for numerous reasons, but that doesn't mean he… I mean, he's not…"

"Like my father?"

"He's _not_. He's just got a bit of a temper, and sometimes he -"

"Don't list off the old excuses. I've heard them all before."

"Why are you doing this?!"

"Because I'm worried about you," Balthazar says slowly, calmly. "And I feel like it's my responsibility to knock some sense into you… You can't go back to that house, Cassy."

"Why not?"

"You know why."

Castiel scoffs and turns away, his nails biting deeper and deeper into his flesh. "You just… You don't know when to leave it alone, do you?"

"Well, I warned you I'm persistent."

"You've never cared about me. This whole time, you've _never_ cared. So why now?"

Balthazar takes a deep swig of coffee and sits back. "Just because we don't hug and whisper sweet nothings into each other's ears, _doesn't_ mean I don't care."

"But you do think I'm weak, that I'm making the wrong decision?"

"You've got a backbone, Cassy. There's no denying that. But you're falling for the oldest trick in the book. Going back to that dirty bastard isn't going to make anyone's lifes any better; you're going to get yourself _hurt_ , if anything."

Castiel tries not to think back to all the times his uncle has hurt him in the past, but it's like the memories wash over him in a terrible wave he can't resist. He remembers the burn of the earth against his cheek as Zachariah dragged him through the dirt, the sting of the belt slicing the surface of his skin, the screaming pain of ice cold water rinsing the congealed blood away from his latest wounds… The past four years of his life (give or take) have been a living hell. From the very first day they arrived at his uncle's house, Castiel knew that things were never going to be the same again. Zachariah was supposed to be this light at the end of the tunnel; after their mom was carted off to some rehabilitation centre, Zachariah was _supposed_ to look after them, make them feel safe and wanted. But that was just a fairy-tale, and the reality was far from pleasant.

"Cassy," Balthazar's voice cuts through the fog in his mind. He's suddenly crouching down in front of him, hand touching his knee. "Cassy, stop it. You're hurting yourself."

It's only then that he notices the sting. He looks down at his hands, now slick with fresh blood, and leaps up from his chair. His palms are red and sticky. His whole body is shaking. He's going to throw up, he's going to collapse, he's going to -"

"Cassy, calm down! I'm going to get a medic, just -"

"No! I-I'm fine. I can do it myself."

"Castiel, wait -"

But he's out through the door and running down the corridor before Balthazar can say another word. Blood is dripping onto the linoleum floor in dark spots, leaving a trail in his wake. He's cradling his injured hands against his chest and trying to keep his breathing even, but everything is so loud and distorted… Why is the ground all wavy like that? Is he in a dream? He tries pinching himself to wake up, but the pain just echoes numbly in his head, bouncing off his skull like silent screams in an empty cave. He just wants to slow down for a second. He wants the lights to stop being so _bright_. Why are they like that? Why can't they just _stop_?!

"Castiel?" He pauses, lifting his head and blinking his eyes open. Lucifer is standing in front of him, blood covering his shirt in dirty brown streaks. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I… I-I'm sorry, I didn't… I didn't see you there. I was just -"

"Why are you bleeding?"

"Oh, it's nothing. I, um… I slipped outside and -"

"Do you want me to get someone?"

"No! Don't, please."

"But Cas -"

"I'm _fine_ , alright? Just… Just leave me alone, will you? I'm okay. I'm… I'm _great_ actually."

"Yeah, you really look it."

"Just stay out of it, okay? It's none of your business."

"You need help -"

"No, I don't!" Castiel cries, flicking blood like paint across the floor as he turns to face Lucifer. "Why can't people just get that into their heads?! I _don't_ need help! I've looked after myself since I was eight years old! I've never needed anyone else; it's just me and my sister. We work well that way."

"You could've fooled me."

"Why do you even care? You've been an ass to me since I arrived."

"I'm an ass to everyone. Don't take it personally."

"Well, it feels personal."

Lucifer sets his jaw and offers his hand. "Just let me take you to the nurse -"

"No," Castiel twists out of his reach. "I'm fine, I just… I want to be alone right now. I'll be okay."

"Castiel -"

"I said I'll be okay!"

And with that, he disappears down the corridor and into his room, letting the door shut behind him with a slam.

* * *

The blood just won't go away. He's standing over the sink, scrubbing desperately at the open cuts on his palms, but nothing seems to be stemming the flow. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. The mirror is smeared with red fingerprints, and the water is an ugly brown as it trickles down the sides of the bowl. He doesn't even want to think about the mess he made in the corridor, all over Lucifer's shirt and Balthazar's carpet. He's such a disgusting excuse of a human being. Why even try justifying it? There's a reason his uncle loathed him from the start, and this is it: he's simply unfixable.

He forces his eyes open and stares down at the sink, splashed with his own blood. He's never liked blood. When Jo attacked Michael with her guitar, he could barely stand to look at the dirty stain it left behind. But still, he was inexplicably drawn to it. Has he always been that screwed up? He can't even remember anymore. The happy memories of his family - before his dad left and his mom lost the plot - are nothing but hazy images slipping in and out of his mind. He can faintly recall a time when his life was relatively normal, consisting of family meals and days out during the summer. But what really sticks out is the look on his dad's face as he said goodbye, the dead-eyed expression his mom wore for years after he left, the screams his sister made that terrible night, the night that still makes him wake in a cold sweat from time to time.

"Don't," He whispers to his blood-smeared reflection in the mirror, his voice trembling with unshed tears. "Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't _think_ about it."

But he can't help it. Just like so many times before, the memory of that night starts to play inside his head, grainy and muffled like an old movie as he falls backs against the wall. He tries to resist it, to distract himself with the pain by clenching his fists even tighter, but the blood squeezing through his fingers only strengthens the memory, bringing it to life before his very eyes...

 _He's twelve years old. Barely. It's late at night, maybe early morning. He's asleep in bed with the lamp still on. He's been afraid of the dark for as long as he can remember. It's all so quiet, so still. His breathing is soft and even. He's dreaming of the beach, a place he's never been to before. His dad is holding him on his shoulders, and Anna is playing in the sand. Everything is perfect, the way dreams are supposed to be._

 _But then the sky is being rippled and pulled away, like giant hands are crumpling it from behind, stealing the sun away from his dream. His dad's face is blank - just empty skin. He's still laughing though, clutching onto his father's skeletal shoulders as the sky slinks off into darkness. Anna is watching him from the sand. Her brown eyes are wide and round, her mouth open as if she wants to say something. The words come after, slightly disjointed and squashed together. She's saying his name. She's_ screaming _his name. There's something tugging at his arm, pulling him from his father's shoulders. He tries to hold on, but it's like he's been sucked into a vacuum. He hits the ground silently, the sand sinking like a trampoline beneath his weight, and then everything turns impossibly white. He's springing up into the air, and then he's awake._

 _Anna is hovering over his bed, screaming his name, just like in the dream. She's shaking his shoulders and trying to get him up on his feet._

 _"Anna," He says, voice still sluggish with sleep. "What are you doing? What's wrong?"_

 _"Mommy won't wake up."_

 _Those words send tingles across his skin. He's suddenly out of his bed, slipping into a pair of worn out trainers, and telling Anna to stay put. He asks her where their mom is, but Anna's too busy crying into her hands to reply. It's okay though. Their house is only small; it's all they could afford after their dad left. He can find her by himself. He can_ do _this by himself._

 _"Stay here," He says to Anna, adopting a stern yet calming kind of voice. He doesn't have time to see if it works before he's rushing out into the hallway._

 _It's so dark, he can barely see as he manoeuvres himself down the corridor, hands pushing him from one wall to the other to keep himself steady. For some reason, turning on the light would feel wrong. Maybe he's too scared of what he might find if he could actually see. Anna said that their mom wouldn't get up, which could mean all sorts of things. His mind might be jumping to the worst conclusion, but how many times has he had to carry her to bed after she's passed out drunk? Maybe it's just one of those nights. He can_ handle _those nights. He just wishes this isn't something new altogether._

 _He doesn't find her in the living room, where she usually chooses to go when she's drunk. The table is scattered with cigarette butts (she started smoking eight months ago, and now the house always smells rotten). The TV is turned on mute, a children's cartoon playing silently in the dark room. The glow coming from the screen casts an eerie light across the carpet, a flickering slice of pale blue that arches over the couch and into the kitchen. He follows it like a beacon, fists clenching and unclenching by his sides._

 _The kitchen is empty too, the shutters on the old windows tightly closed to block out the world. There's a melodic_ thump, thump _coming from the sink, a beat from the dripping tap as the water hits the bottom. Castiel turns it off instinctively (Anna always leaves it on without realizing) and heads for the table. The family photo album is open, its pages slightly crinkled from someone's tight grip. There's a lump in his throat as he skims his eyes over the smiling image of his parents pushing a pink stroller. Castiel can see his four year old self hidden in the background, but that's not the focus of the photograph; when Anna was born, his parents finally had a child they could be proud of. He was never really in the limelight much after that._

 _He closes the album with a sniff and carries on moving. He checks his mom's room next, but just like before, he finds it empty. Her sheets look messy and slept-in, but they've looked like that four about three years now. Castiel used to clean his mom's room whenever he could, but now she just screams at him to leave as soon as he steps one foot inside. Now he wanders aimlessly about, running his finger along the dust-caked shelves. He leaves after a while, making his way towards the bathroom. It's the only room left._

 _The first thing he notices is the light spilling out beneath the door. His hands are shaking as he pushes it open, hitting something blocking the entryway in the process. Somehow, in that moment, he knows what he's going to find on the other side. His heart is hammering as he peers around the small gap, bile rising in his throat as his eyes land on the body lying limply on the ground. Even with the light on, it's difficult to make out much from here. Still, he can see the red pool of shimmering liquid oozing out across the tiled floor. His mom's head is lolled to the side, chin resting on her shoulder at an awkward angle. She looks like a doll that's been tossed aside, so deathly still and quiet. Castiel's knees are close to buckling, but he refuses to break down at this very moment. There will be time for that later. Right now, he has to worry about opening this door without breaking his mom's legs. It's a delicate process, but he eventually gets inside and drops to the ground beside her._

 _"Mom?!" His voice sounds squeaky and childish. "Mom, wake up!"_

 _There are two matching gashes on either one of her arms, both the same disturbing shade of dark crimson, almost black in their depth. The blood is pumping out steadily from the cuts; his pyjama bottoms are already soaked through. There's a brief moment when he has no idea what he's doing, that his mind screeches to a complete standstill, and nothing makes sense. But he somehow manages to shake it off, and then he's using two hand towels to tie around his mom's arms._

 _"Is mommy okay?" Anna asks quietly, popping her head around the doorway._

 _Castiel's breathing is haggard as he starts dragging his mom's body across the corridor. "Go back to my room, Anna. Just stay there until I come get you."_

 _"But mom -"_

 _"You don't need to see this, okay?"_

 _Her bottom lip is quivering when she runs off, but Castiel's got bigger things to worry about right now. Downstairs, he can't seem to find the house phone anywhere. He wonders if maybe his mom hid it purposely so he couldn't call for help, but the very thought that she_ wanted _to do this - despite all the evidence - is enough to make his head feel woozy. There's no time to go looking for it; if he doesn't get help quickly, he and Anna will be left with no parents at all._

 _The night sky is inky black as he bursts through the front door, holding his mom up close against his chest. His arms are wrapped firmly around her waist, sticky with blood and shaking with fear. He has to walk backwards down the steps to reach the ground below, and then he's laying his mom's body down onto the cool, damp grass. He's shivering uncontrollably, stomach turned up in knots, but all that matters is finding someone -_ anyone _\- with a working phone before it's too late._

 _"Please!" He screams out into the night, eyes dancing across the row of houses across the street. "I need help out here! Please, I need help!"_

 _One by one, the lights flick on, doors start to open, and small groups of people are hurrying from all directions to get to him. There's the sweet voice of a young woman brushing against his ear, drawing him in for a half hug, half protective hold away from his mom's body. His chest is rising and falling far too quickly. He feels like his heart is about to skip right out of his chest and into his trembling hands._

 _"Castiel!" Anna's voice comes from the house. She's sobbing as she slips in a trail of their mom's blood, knee hitting the porch with a smack. "Cas, where are you?!"_

 _"I'm over here," He reaches out for his sister, struggling against the woman's grip and sliding across the wet grass to get to Anna._

 _"What's going on?"_

 _"Don't worry. It's going to be okay."_

 _"What's wrong with mommy?" Anna hiccups, her large eyes brimming with tears._

 _"Shh, it will all be fine."_

 _"I'm scared."_

 _"I know you are. I am too. It's okay to be scared."_

 _"Castiel?"_

 _"Yeah, little sister?" He looks down at Anna, only she's not there anymore. Instead, he's looking down as his bloody hands, empty of anything but air._

 _"Anna? Anna, where did you go?!"_

 _"Castiel?"_

 _"Anna?!"_

"Castiel, snap out of it!"

And suddenly, he's back in his bathroom at Opal Grove, surrounded by a sea of worried faces. He recognizes Bobby first of all; he's kneeling down in front of him, holding his wrists in a gentle yet firm grip. Charlie and Gabe are standing behind him, with Balthazar hovering in the doorway. It takes a few moments to shake himself out of his memories, but then he's standing up on wobbly legs.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bobby steadies him with a hand on his back. "Take it easy there, son."

"Should I call Dean or something?" Charlie asks meekly.

Castiel groans. "No! Don't do that! Don't… Don't call him, please. He'll just worry."

"Don't you think he should -"

"Just don't do it!"

Bobby waves Charlie off, then turns to Castiel with a look of composure. "You've really done a number on yourself this time, ain't ya?"

"I'm so sorry. I made a mess. I ruined everything."

"Now, there's no need to be dramatic, boy. You ain't got nothin' to be sorry about, ya hear me?"

"Look at this mess," Castiel glances down at his hands, a low keening noise rising from his throat as he slaps himself on the head. "My uncle's going to be so mad. He's going to be _really_ mad…"

"Don't worry about that right now."

"Why do I do this?"

"Calm down, Castiel. You're gonna be just fine. We're gonna take care of you."

"I… I screwed up again!"

"No, you didn't."

"I'm going to be so lonely," He cries out, fingers curling in his hair as he starts rocking himself back forth. "Why do I do this? Why do I push people away? I'm going to have _no one_!"

"Well, you've got us for the moment. That's gonna have to be enough."

The next thing he knows, he's being carried out the bathroom and laid onto something soft. His head hits a pillow - not his own, but still comfortable - and gentle hands are touching his skin. There's something warm being pressed against his palms, a delicious kind of pain as the pressure around his cuts tightens. He feels like he's caught between sleeping and waking, and everything is fading away. The last thing he sees before his eyes slip closed is a familiar face smiling down at him, a short tangle of blonde waves brushing against his cheek.

* * *

When he finally wakes up hours later, he finds himself staring at Bubbles. He's not in his room (the walls are too white for this to be his room), but someone obviously moved his fish into here for some reason. He struggles to sit up, the pain slicing through his palms making his stomach churn. He's not sure he can look at Bubbles for much longer; that stupid fish just makes him think about Dean.

"How are you feeling?"

Castiel turns to find Mary sitting beside his bed in a plastic chair. There's a red mark on her cheek, probably from where it's been resting against her hand. She looks tired.

"What… Where I am? What happened?"

"Can you remember your session with Balthazar?"

"My session… My session with Balthazar? That was today…"

"Yeah, that's right. Good, Castiel. Good."

"I… I left."

"You ran out the room."

Castiel swallows thickly, wincing as another wave of pain washes over him. "I hurt myself again, didn't I?"

"You cut your hands, yeah."

"Who else saw?"

"Not that many people, don't worry. Only Bobby and Balthazar, and a couple of your friends."

"Charlie and Gabe?"

"Mhm."

"Were… W-Were they angry with me?"

Mary's face crumples. "Why would you ask that?"

"No reason. It doesn't matter. What are you doing in here anyway?"

"I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Well, I'm fine. You can go now."

"What's wrong, Castiel?" Mary reaches forward, gingerly resting her hand on his arm. "I haven't seen you since Christmas. Dean says your not answering his texts."

"I'm just… I'm not in a good place right now."

"Pushing him away is the last thing you want to do then."

Castiel looks down at his hands. They've been thickly bandaged, but he can still imagine the shadow of blood hiding beneath. He can't remember what happened all that well (he's fairly certain he had some kind of episode), but he _does_ remember digging his nails in deeper than he's ever done before. It'll probably scar for good this time, just another permanent blemish to add to his broken body.

"What else did he say? Dean, I mean. Has he talked about me much?"

Mary sighs. "He won't _stop_ talking about you. He's tried to come visit these past three days, but I told him you probably needed some alone time. Now I think maybe that's the opposite of what you need."

"It wasn't supposed to go like this. He was supposed to just… stop caring, I guess."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing," He says quickly, fiddling with a loose thread on the white cotton sheets covering his body from the waist down. "What room is this?"

"You're in the recovery ward. Now, what did you mean?"

"I don't think I've ever been in here before."

"Castiel -"

"We're not talking about Dean," He interjects, fingers flexing in distress. "I don't… I'm just not ready to talk about him just yet."

Mary's expression turns grave. "You say that like he's going to die or something."

"Yeah, well. We're all going to die. That's the circle of life."

"I'm not in the mood for your cynicism, Castiel. This isn't just about _you_ anymore. My son's now involved."

"My apologies. I forgot you people only care about your flesh and blood."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"You're blaming me for upsetting Dean. I get that. But don't worry: in time, he'll get over it."

"Please, start making sense."

"You're in a mental institution. Not exactly the right place if you're looking for 'sense'."

Mary's throat ripples. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing. _Everything_. I don't know…"

"Why are you avoiding Dean? You two seemed happy at Christmas."

"We were," Castiel huffs a humourless laugh. "I don't think I've ever been that happy before in my life."

"We enjoyed having you."

"And I appreciate that. I really do, but… You know that expression? 'Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all'? Well, it's a load of crap."

Mary smiles. "Now you're starting to sound like Dean."

"I could never be like Dean."

"No. Because you're _you_. And that's a good thing, Castiel. Trust me on that."

"I'll have to take your word for it."

Beside him, resting next to Bubbles' bowl, his phone chimes yet again. His brain must have started associating the noise with pain, because his heart clenches almost instantly.

"Oh, sorry," Mary glances at the phone. "I turned it off silent, just in case of an emergency."

"You mean in case Dean tried to call me again?"

"No, that's not -"

"I know you're trying to fix things, but there's no point."

"Did you two have a fight?"

"No."

"Then why -"

"What's the point in dragging this out when I'm leaving in nine days?"

Mary's shoulders sag. "You can always come visit. Illinois isn't that far, and -"

"You don't get it," Castiel scoffs. "I can't come back. Once I'm gone, that's it. No calls, no visits, no _anything_ …"

"I'm sure your uncle wouldn't mind you staying in touch."

Castiel turns his head away, if only to hide the tears slowly welling up. Mary has no idea what he has waiting for him back home. She probably thinks that his family knows about Dean, that they're completely supportive. Sure, she knows about his little argument with Zachariah a few weeks ago, but that could have been about anything. No one here really knows the full extent of his uncle's abuse; Balthazar has assumed things, and so have Charlie and Gabe, but he's never outright _told_ someone the truth. If anyone truly knew about his past, they wouldn't dream of letting him go back with Zachariah. They'd file a complaint, have him arrested, and throw Anna into the system for good. Everything would be ruined.

"You know, Castiel… If something was happening at home, you could tell me."

"I don't want to talk about that."

"Okay," Mary squeezes his arm and smiles. "You don't have to say anything you don't want to say."

Castiel stays silent for a while. For some reason, he goes back to looking at Bubbles, despite how painful a reminder he is. He watches his tiny orange body flashing through the water, skimming the multi-coloured pebbles on the floor with the tip of his tail. He wonders what it would be like to be a fish, for your only enjoyment in life to be swimming back and forth, back and forth… But don't they have an extremely short memory span anyway? They wouldn't ever remember being miserable. It all goes back to the classic debate of ignorant bliss. If there was a magic button that could wipe everything away - his uncle's cruelty, his time with Dean - would he push it? For the sake of living a sweet, oblivious life, would he throw all his past experiences away?

"Can I tell you something?" He whispers to Mary. "Not about my uncle… Something else?"

Mary's smile softens as she scoots closer. "Of course you can."

He can't even tear his eyes away from Bubbles long enough to actually look at her. He knows it's probably rude, speaking to someone without looking at them, but maybe it's better this way. He's not sure he could confess something like this with a pair of sympathetic eyes watching him the entire time.

"I… I love him," He croaks, voice tripping over his tears. "I'm in love with him."

In his head, he imagined the world bursting into flames the moment he admitted that aloud. He pictured looks of disgust, words of hatred… But instead, there's nothing. He feels Mary's fingers brushing against his arm, and that's it. There's no screaming or pitchforks, no angry threats of damnation. He's just like any other scared kid professing his love for the first time. It's actually pretty refreshing.

"I know," Mary suddenly says, hers words gentle. There's a slight sheen to her eyes when Castiel finally turns to look at her, but she's still smiling. "And that's why you need to talk to him."

"No. No, really, I can't."

"Yes, you _can_."

"It's not as simple as you think."

"Love is never simple."

"Loving Dean is the _only_ simple thing in my life," He says with a shuddered breath. "That's why I can't have him. We don't… It just wouldn't work out. He's wonderful and happy and _normal_ , and I'm… Well, just look at me," He nods down at his injured hands. "I'm a mess."

"Do you honestly think he doesn't feel the same way about you?"

Castiel closes his eyes, not even wanting to consider it. "That doesn't matter."

"But he -"

"I'd like to be alone right now," He says thickly, refusing to meet Mary's watery gaze again. "I'm still a little tired from earlier. I think I need some more rest."

Mary hesistates for a moment, and then she's standing up and patting him on the arm one last time. Her touch is warm and soft, _motherly_. He hasn't even stopped to think about never seeing Mary again; she's the closest thing he's had to a mother in a very long time, and that's going to be a difficult thing to let go.

"You know where I am if you need to talk."

Castiel waits until she's gone before grabbing his phone. He hasn't read any of Dean's texts since Christmas, but he certainly didn't expect to have over thirty unread messages waiting for him. He takes a deep breath, opens them up, and slowly starts scrolling through.

 **Had a great time yesterday. See u tomorrow?**

 **Hey. Hows that fish doin btw? You got a stupid name for it yet? ;)**

 **Ur probably tired. Text u later.**

 **Me n Sammy made another snowman. Official conclusion = carrots and coal r the way to go.**

 **Earth to Cas? Come in Cas!**

 **You okay?**

 **Aw shit. U didnt actually get pneumonia did u?**

 **Text me back. Im gettin worried.**

 **Ive tried calling but u won't pick up. Im coming round.**

 **Mom says not to visit. U sick or something?**

 **Cas. Its been 3 days. Where the hell are u man? Im freaking out over here.**

 **Did I say something?**

 **Cause if I did Im sry. Im an idiot.**

 **Please answer me baby.**

 **I spoke to Charlie. She said youve been hiding in your room all week. Whats going on?**

 **Is this cause I bought u a fish?**

 **I suck at buying gifts. Im sry. How about ten tons of burgers?**

 **Answer ur phone Cas. I need to know ur okay.**

 **Mom still won't let me see u. Is this some frickin conspiracy or something? I feel like ur both keeping some big secret from me.**

 **Okay. Thats it. I need to see u.**

 **Baby please… Im really worried now. I miss you okay?**

Castiel tosses his phone aside with a growl, angry at himself for being so selfish. He can't stand to read any more of them. He can't _stand_ knowing how badly he's hurting Dean. All he wanted to do was protect him, but it seems that he's only breaking his heart instead. How is that even fair? How is he supposed to win?!

"I'm sorry," He whispers to the empty room, his shoulders starting to shake. "I'm so sorry."

And then the tears start falling, rolling down his face in hot, heavy drops that burn his skin. It's all he can do not to tear his bandages clean off and reopen his wounds, keep on scratching until he bleeds out like his mother almost did. He wonders if anyone would even care. They _would_ , of course, but some sick part of him wishes they wouldn't give a damn. How liberating must it be to just let the light switch off for good, leaving no trace of your miserable life behind? No one wants to remember him anyway; he sucks the happiness out of everyone he meets. He doesn't deserve to be mourned or missed, especially not by any of the wonderful people he's met at Opal Grove, especially not by someone as amazing as Dean Winchester. It would probably be best for everyone if he just disappeared without a word… Their lifes would be so much easier without him around to spoil everything.


	20. Chapter 20

**Sorry for the super late chapter, guys! I've been really busy with school work. Anyway... I hope you enjoy! Please leave a review if you can. Thank you so much**

* * *

He only spends one night in the recovery ward, despite Bobby's worries that he 'still needs time'. He doesn't like sleeping in the unfamiliar room though, the walls too bright and the bed too soft. He'd rather give himself time to heal in the comfort of his own privacy. Mary doesn't let him go until she's cleaned his bandages and made sure he's okay (which is basically the equivalent of making sure he's not going to try and hurt himself again). Castiel would explain how cutting his palms was not intentional, more like a twisted instinct of his, but dragging out their conversation is the last thing he wants right now. After confessing his love for her son, being around Mary isn't exactly comfortable for either of them.

Charlie and Gabe come visit him the next day. They sprawl themselves out on his floor, eating cheap snacks and telling crude stories, while Castiel stares out his window forlornly. He knows they're just trying to help, but hanging out like the good old days doesn't seem to do the trick anymore. He manages a smile when Charlie starts throwing various pieces of food into Gabe's mouth from across the room, but even that feels plastic and wrong. What the hell gives him the right to smile after everything he's done? They're both tiptoeing around it, pretending like it didn't happen, but Castiel knowsthey saw him. He's never broken down in front of them like that before. He feels embarrassed, ashamed, _pathetic_. He must have looked like something from one of those awful horror movies Dean used to make him watch, all that blood dripping down his hands while he screamed and writhed against Bobby's hold. He promised himself he'd never turn into his mother, but surprise, surprise: he failed again.

Once Charlie and Gabe have left, everything goes back to being quiet. He alternates between lying on his bed and staring at his phone, just listening out for the occasional chime of yet another new message. He doesn't read them this time; it's too harsh a reminder of what Dean is going through because of him. Hiding from his own mistakes is cowardly, but God knows what he'd do if he exposed himself to Dean's pain again. He can't risk giving in and ruining everything… He's doing this for Anna, that's what he keeps reminding himself. _He's doing this for his little sister_.

By the time Bobby comes knocking on his door with two cheeseburgers, Castiel has fallen asleep and woken up about five times. Well, if closing your eyes and drowning out your thoughts counts as sleeping anyway. He just feels really heavy and tired, without the real desire to go to bed. Lying on the cold sheets only reminds him of every night he's spent with Dean in this very room, and those kinds of torturous thoughts are the ones urging him to pick up the phone and finally surrender. He can't stand this feeling of hopelessness and guilt; it's far worse than taking a fist to his stomach and being dragged through the dirt. He'd take Zachariah's endless beatings over this gnawing sense of complete and utter emptiness any day.

"I'm just gonna open the door," Bobby says quietly as he lets himself in, placing the plate of burgers on his bedside table. Castiel almost smiles when the older man scratches his chin and takes off his cap in that typical Bobby kind of way. "How you doin', son?"

Castiel shrugs. "I'm doing okay, I guess. I'm not going to hurt myself if that's what you're worried about."

"Ain't that what you said your first week here?"

"Well, I screwed up. I'm sorry."

Bobby taps the peak of his cap before putting it back on his head, nodding down at the burgers slowly cooling to Castiel's left. "You better get 'em while they're good."

"I'm not hungry."

"I ain't gonna force 'em down yer throat, boy, but you've gotta eat somethin'."

"I'll eat them when I'm hungry."

"That a promise?"

Castiel glances up at Bobby, swallowing thickly. "I promise."

"And those hands of yours… you ain't gonna start scatchin' at 'em again? You promise that too?"

"Yes, I promise."

"Mhm," Bobby narrows his eyes. He looks caught between suspicious and fond, the strangest of smiles touching his lips as he folds his arms. "You're a complicated one, kid."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Depends on how you carry yourself."

"What do you mean?"

"You've got a good head on yer shoulders, boy. But if you keep doin' this to yourself, you ain't gonna get nowhere."

Castiel ducks his head, unable to meet the disappointment in Bobby's eyes. "I'm sorry."

"You throw that word around like a goddamn shield. You ain't gotta be sorry for needin' help, okay? You just gotta find the strength to ask for it."

"But… what if I can't?"

"I doubt that."

"Why does everyone believe in me so much? All I do is make a mess of things."

"Guess they see somethin' else in you."

"What's that?"

Bobby flicks his cap and smiles again. It's kind of unnerving. "You're one of the good'ens, alright? Hell, you're even funny when you wanna be. You just gotta stop givin' yourself such a hard time, try lookin' for that thing that everyone else sees."

"I'm not really partial to psychoanalyzing myself, thanks."

"Give it a try sometime."

"And what if I don't like what I find?"

Bobby shakes his head and turns to leave, still smiling that strange, cryptic smile of his. "I think you might just surprise yourself."

As soon as the door closes, the silence is back again, only now it feels like a weight being pressed against his throat, shutting off his oxygen with each terrible squeeze. He tries to suck in as much air as possible, but each breath feels like inhaling sand. He crosses an arm over his chest, scrunches his eyes closed… He can't be having another attack, not so soon. His hand reaches blindly - as if separate from the rest of his body - for the old inhaler stuffed beneath his mattress. He hasn't had to use it in years, doesn't _want_ to have to use it. He just holds it tightly in his hand, focussing on the rainbow sticker Anna once decorated it with, and tries to control his breathing. He's white-knuckling either side of his bed as he takes a deep breath through his nose, letting it filter out through his mouth slowly. The whole ordeal is enough to bring tears to his eyes.

He calms himself down by cleaning Bubbles' bowl for the second time today. There's something about the cool water touching his skin that eases that feeling of suffocation, that clears his head and stops the incessant shaking in his fingers. The poor guy doesn't look too thrilled about being lifted up in a net again, but he's happy enough swimming around in the tub of treated water while Castiel scrubs his bowl (because apparently fish are fussy and not just any old water will do). Dropping Bubbles back into his newly cleaned home is strangely satisfying; it makes him feel like he's not utterly useless after all.

But once that's over and done with, all the bad thoughts come creeping back. He tries going to sleep again, even has a bite of one of his burgers, but nothing is able to dispel the oncoming cloud of guilt and paranoia swirling around in his mind. He keeps thinking too far forward, trying to imagine how different everything will be in a week, a month, a _year_ … Will Dean be over him by then? Will his uncle have sent him away to some dreaded anti-gay camp in the middle of nowhere? What about Charlie and Gabe? Will they miss him? Who's going to take care of Bubbles when he's gone? Will he even get a chance to see Kevin and Jo before he leaves for good? Everything seems so uncertain. He can feel his anxiety crawling over his skin like ants, urging him to tear off his bandages and scratch the feeling away. But he only justpromised Bobby he wouldn't hurt himself again, and even _he's_ not a big enough failure to break his promise less than two hours later.

When night finally comes, and silence falls over the building, Castiel decides to do something productive. He's always avoiding his problems, too afraid to face them head on, but maybe this small thing will alleviate some of the guilt he's feeling right now. With quiet steps, he pads across the room, unearths one of the diaries Mary gave him so many weeks ago, and draws a chair up to his bedside table. There's really not much space, and bending down is giving him a crook in his neck, but it's worth it, if only he can make this work. If he can just put into words how much he's appreciated his time at Opal Grove, and somehow explain how this is the best decision for everyone, then maybe all the wonderful people he's come to know these past three months can get on with their lives without having to feel guilty or responsible for his leaving.

He spends hours trying to write the perfect letter, to formulate some kind of closure for everyone without making it feel too much like a goodbye; he's still not ready to accept that this is it, that in just a few days' time, his uncle will come to take him back to that godawful place, and everything he's experienced here will be nothing but a shrivelling memory. The darkness outside his window is creeping in, spilling over his desk and engulfing his hand as it flies across the paper. His words are gibberish, hardly readable. He's running on low fumes - still tired despite his numerous 'naps' throughout the day - and the low light hanging over his room is making it even more difficult to focus on the task at hand. He tries blinking his eyes a few times, even pinching his skin until it's peppered with tiny red welts, but he's quickly slipping under the spell of fatigue. The page is streaked with ugly words that make his eyes prick with tears. _I'm sorry. It's my fault. Forgive me. Move on. I'm not worth it. Forget me. You don't deserve this. You don't deserve me._

The self-loathing is seeping through every line, practically making him gag as he tears the page out and throws it in a ball across the room. His fingers glide through his hair, but the tenderness of his still-healing wounds stops him from digging into his scalp or smacking his face. All he can do is sit there, cradling his own head and heaving dry sobs as the night ticks on.

He's not sure what drives him to do it - selfishness, weakness, maybe a bit of both - but he's suddenly scrambling for his phone and searching through Dean's unread messages. He hasn't sent many more since he last checked, but the sign of a new voicemail makes his heart leap.

With shaking hands, he lifts the phone to his ear and lets the message play.

"Hey, Cas. It's me. Uh, Dean. I mean, you already know that but - ya know what? I'm just gonna skip the introductions and get on with it," Castiel smiles sadly; if Dean's words weren't so drenched in grief, he'd probably find them adorable. "I'm just callin' to, uh… check in, I guess. I figured you would… I dunno, I kinda hoped you'd feel more… I just thought if you could hear my voice, maybe you'd call me back or somethin'. It's stupid, I know. I'm clutchin' at straws here, man! I just… I _need_ to know you're okay. E-Even if you don't wanna talk to me, maybe you could pass on a message? Hell, send me a note on a frickin' pigeon if you have to! Please, Cas, I… This is killin' me. I don't wanna sound like a drama queen, but there ya go. Whatever it is I've done, I'm _sorry_. Seriously, baby, I didn't mean to do anythin' to upset you or… You know I'd never hurt you, right? I have no idea what I screwed up this time, but I swear to God… Cas, I didn't mean to! Please, just… M-Maybe this is all wrong? I'm not callin' you a liar, I mean… _fuck_ , that's not what I meant, I just… I _need_ you, Cas. Ain't that enough? I know I can be a sucky boyfriend at times, but I can do better. Just… Just tell me what I need to do."

Castiel sucks in a shuddered breath as the message clicks off, leaving nothing but the crinkling sound of static in its wake. Why the hell is Dean blaming himself? It wasn't supposed to go this way; he was supposed to be _angry_ with Castiel for leaving him without a word, not plead for his forgiveness! Hearing Dean beg like that - his voice so broken with desperation - makes his insides curl up. His grip tightens around the phone, fingers trembling as he slips into his bed and replays the message.

Even though the voice is shattered and weak, it's still _Dean's_ voice, and this is the closest Castiel has felt to being near him in days. He can't resist letting the message play on loop, pouring Dean's rumbling words like honey down his ear as he starts to drift off. He's not sure how many times the message plays before he finally falls asleep, but the last thing he remembers are the words 'I need you' echoing inside his head.

* * *

It's that inexplicable tug of _something_ that finds him knocking on Lucifer's door the next day. He woke up in a cold sweat, cheek still pressed to his phone (which by then was completely dead). The scrunched up goodbye note he'd failed to write was still lying on the floor, mocking him everyone time it caught his eye. He needed to get out of that room, if only for a couple of hours, and there was honestly only one place he could think to go. While he's still trying to push Gabe and Charlie away to make things easier later on, he doesn't feel the same need to keep his distance from Lucifer. It's like the older boy understands him in a way that needs no explanation.

"Pop in for a spot of tea?" Lucifer says with a smirk as he opens the door.

Castiel roll his eyes. "Can I come in?"

"Only if you promise not to cover me in blood like last time."

"That's not going to happen," He says, lifting his bandaged hands with a pointed look. "I promise."

"Well, come on in then."

The room is just as he remembers it, still small and dark with a rich, musky scent that seems to sit in heavy clumps in the air. The walls are a moody teal colour, several shades darker than the light blue in Castiel's room. The curtains are drawn tightly closed, blocking out the sunlight and drowning the room in ugly shadows that snake around Castiel's ankles as he steps inside. He leaves the door open to keep himself from suffocating.

"I wanted to apologise for the other day… I hope I didn't stain your shirt."

"It was just a shirt."

"Still, I feel bad. You were trying to be nice to me, and all I did was shout at you."

"I found that pretty amusing actually."

Castiel's shoulders sag as he sits on the edge of Lucifer's bed. "You probably don't care about any of this, but I guess I trust you not to tell."

"Oh, really?"

"This is important, Luke."

Just like every time Castiel uses his real name, Lucifer's face softens. "Go on then. You've got me intrigued."

"Well, first of all… I'm not here because I'm depressed."

"And?"

"My uncle sent me here because I'm gay. He's highly religious, and he seems to think that liking boys is some choice I made when I was younger. He thinks it can be reversed."

Lucifer snorts. "He sounds like a pleasant chap."

"He's really not. My sister and I, we've been living with him for almost six years now. He's reckless and cruel and controlling. He's despised me ever since I was born. I was a 'bastard child', the shame brought upon my family after my mother slept with a rogue musician. I wasn't supposed to happen."

"So he blames you for being born?"

"He tries to disguise it as something else… He's always coming up with these excuses: how I'm not obedient or grateful enough, that I don't truly believe in God."

"Do you?"

"Well, no. Not anymore. But that's beside the point. He tries to justify what he does to me, and no one bats an eyelash."

"And what exactly does he _do_ to you?"

Castiel clenches his fists. Why is he doing this again? Oh, yeah. Because he can't stand the lies anymore, can't cope with the constant weight on his shoulders. If he said any of this to Dean or Bobby or Mary, there's no way they'd let him go back with Zachariah. But Lucifer is cold and unfeeling (for the most part anyway). He doesn't care what happens to Castiel at home, nor does he have any desire to play the hero. Confessing his deepest, darkest secrets to Lucifer would be like shouting them into an empty cave - satisfying, but inconsequential.

"He… Well, he takes his anger out on me. I'm sure you can fill in the blanks."

"He beats you?"

"Sometimes. I don't think he likes using his fists; the bruises on his knuckles, they, um… People would notice. He usually uses other things."

"Would you care to elaborate?" Lucifer asks, and for the first time since he started speaking, Castiel realizes how angry the other boy looks. His fists are clenched even tighter than his are, bundled in his lap as his left knee jerks up and down restlessly. His eyes are livid, watching him with wild intensity.

Castiel clears his throat. "I'm sorry… I-I didn't think this would bother you. I just wanted to get it off my chest, but I can leave -"

"I hardly knew my dad," Lucifer interjects, now staring down at his hands. "He'd turn up out of the blue now and again to say hello, but he had other priorities. Another family to get back to."

Castiel freezes, caught off guard by the sudden change in conversation. Lucifer carries on talking as he lowers himself back onto the bed.

"My mother… she was always a bit wild, never one to settle down for too long. She'd sell her body down the high street for cash up front. It was an honest living, she said. The smell of drugs used to cling to her clothes; nobody would hire her. It was the only way she could stay afloat," Lucifer's mouth twitches. "But then she met my father one day, and everything was… _different_. He didn't pull at her skirt or ask to see her tits on the first date. She said it was the closest to 'love at first sight' she'd ever got. She was naïve… an _idiot_."

Castiel frowns. "What happened?"

"Oh, they had me. I was unexpected, but still… my dad promised to stick around and support us both. That is until he got some other poor girl pregnant."

"He was unfaithful?"

"Well, it's not like my parents were married or anything, but yes. In my mom's eyes, he was a scoundrel. She asked him to make his choice - either he stayed with us, or he went and lived happily ever after with his new family. He was gone within the week. His other offer was obviously sweeter."

"How old were you? When he left, I mean?"

"Almost two months."

Castiel shakes his head and looks away, not sure what to do or say to ease Lucifer's pain. At least he got to spend eight years with his father, but two months? It's not right.

"Don't look too sorry for me. He still visited as much as he could, tried to be a father to me. He used to take me to this beach every summer… I wouldn't dream of going there now, but as a kid I guess it was fun. Pretending I had a real dad was nice. He'd even win me prizes in the arcade; they were ridiculous, but I was sentimental. I always believed that someday he'd leave his other family and come back to us."

Castiel sighs, his brain slowly putting the pieces together. "Your mug, the one with the smiley face on it… That was from your dad, wasn't it?"

"He won it for me in one those stupid 'fish a duck' games. He left for good after that."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm over it."

"And what about your mom? Where is she now?"

Lucifer's expression darkens. "When my dad disappeared off the face of the earth, things went bad for her. She went back to the streets, starting using drugs again. She ran off with her latest fiancé when I was fourteen. That was the last time I ever saw her."

"But… how did you live by yourself?"

"I wandered around, slept rough for a while. I got into this fight with a couple of assholes a few years ago; someone reported it to the police, and they sent me here."

"And they just took you in?"

"It was either this or the system, but the warden fought to keep me here. God knows why. Singer's been funding my stay for as long as I can remember. I'm here until I turn eighteen, and then -"

"You're gone."

"They throw me back out onto the streets again, yeah."

"Is there no one you can stay with?"

"I'll figure it out, don't worry."

Castiel doesn't say anything for a while, but then the question he's been itching to ask tumbles out of his mouth. "What about Mary? What happened between you two?"

Lucifer purses his lips. "Mary was the first person to take a real interest in me. She was kind in ways I'd never experienced before… But then I realized it was the mother in her. She didn't really care about me; it's just in her nature to offer comfort to those who need it."

"No. No, Mary is genuine. She's a good person, Luke. She _cared_ about you."

"Well, call it mommy issues if you like."

"You can't keep pushing people away because of what your parents did to you. Not everyone is like them."

Lucifer lifts an eyebrow. "That's a bit hypocritical, don't you think?"

"What do you mean?"

"Isn't pushing people away exactly what _you've_ been doing all week? I heard you locked yourself away in your room the other day."

"That's different. I have my reasons."

"Let me guess: you're going home soon, so you're worried about getting too close to the people here in case saying goodbye is harder than you first thought."

Castiel sets his jaw. "It's really not that simple."

"Then enlighten me. Come on, it's only fair; I told you _my_ tragic backstory."

"Is this just a game to you?"

"No," Lucifer says, his smirk fading into a thin, flat line. "No, I'm serious. Tell me what's wrong."

Castiel narrows his eyes, not sure if Lucifer is being genuine or not. His breath comes out in a _whoosh_ as he tucks his legs under his chin, shrugging slightly as he stares down at the floor. Even if Lucifer is only pretending to care, what does it even matter? He just wants to lie back and let this weight roll off his shoulders for a moment. If telling him the truth will help to ease this tight knot of anxiety in his stomach, isn't it worth it?

"I'm going to break up with Dean," He says, still not looking Lucifer in the eye. "I've been trying to avoid him all week to - to _put him off_ or something. But he won't give up. He keeps texting me and leaving me these sad voice mails… It's killing me, Luke."

Lucifer rubs his chin for a moment, then sighs. "If you're looking for pity, you've come to the wrong place."

Castiel scoffs. "Right. Why did I even _think_ you'd give a damn?"

"Before you run off in a hissy fit, that's not what I meant. I just think you're making a godawful decision, and the only person you can blame for that is yourself."

"I don't really have a choice here. My uncle will never let me see him again, so what's the point? We're going to have to break up eventually, so why not do it the easy way, without causing some big drama?"

"So this is about your uncle finding out?"

"No, he - he has his suspicions already. I just think it will be easier this way."

"You don't want them to meet."

"Of course I don't!"

"I'm confused. Who are you trying to protect in all this?"

Castiel scrubs a hand over his face. "I don't know… I'm trying to protect _all_ of them. If Zachariah finds out about me and Dean, he'll find some way to punish him as well. He hates anyone who tries to tarnish his precious family. But if Dean finds out what Zachariah's been doing to me, _he'll_ go crazy. And then there's my sister! Zachariah knows that Anna is my greatest weakness, and he'll use that against me. But if I break up with Dean now - if I at least _try_ to repent for my sins - maybe he'll give me a second chance."

"You know, I get the sense there's more going on here. What else are you scared of, Cassy?"

Castiel runs a hand through his hair and sighs. This is the part where he loses Lucifer's respect, where he shows him how pathetic and weak he really is. "I'm scared of Dean realizing how messed up my life is… I'm scared that if he learnt the truth, he'd run away like everyone else."

"So you think it would be easier to push him away before he can do the same to you?"

"It's pitiful, I know."

Lucifer huffs a laugh. "We're the same, you and I."

"How did you work that one out?"

"Always pushing people away, never willing to hand over our trust… The similarities are daunting, don't you think?"

Castiel smiles weakly, the corners of his mouth trembling with the effort. "You mean we're both as miserable as each other?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

They both laugh. In all his time here at Opal Grove, he's never heard Lucifer really laugh before. It's surreal.

"Well, I better get back to my room. I don't want Bobby thinking I've ran off."

As he steps out into the corridor, Lucifer calls his name. His eyes are strangely bright when Castiel turns back to face him, slightly red around the edges. If he didn't know that Lucifer kept his emotions strictly under lock and key, he'd think he was about to cry.

"Why do I get the feeling that this heart to heart was a goodbye?"

Castiel pauses in the doorway, nodding his head with a sad little smile. "Goodbye, Luke."

And then he's gone.

* * *

When Castiel gets back to his room, Dean is sitting on his bed. He's so shocked at the sight of his boyfriend that he doesn't even notice the other boy pulling him in for a hug. His whole body stiffens as their chests press against each other, Dean's hands running up his back and settling beneath his shoulder blades. Dean's nose draws a line from under his jaw up to his cheek, nuzzling the spot below his left ear. It's like the past week just falls away, his body melting against Dean as he slowly wraps his arms around his waist.

He allows himself one minute - just _one_ minute - and then he pulls away.

"What are you doing here?"

Dean swallows thickly and kisses his forehead. "I wanted to come sooner, but my mom… she said you needed to be by yourself or somethin'. But then I heard what happened."

Castiel's eyes drift down to the bandages on his hands, cheeks turning pink as he squirms out of Dean's grasp. He didn't want him to find out about that; it's hard enough having Charlie and Gabe know, but he hoped that Dean wouldn't have to see him like this.

"It was an accident."

"Mom said you, uh… you _cut_ yourself? That true?"

Castiel shrugs. "It - It was an accident."

"You just said that."

"Well, I'm saying it again."

"Don't lie to me, baby. I'm not _mad_ , I just… I'mworried, ya know? You've gotta talk to me, man."

Castiel squeezes his eyes shut and turns away. "I think you should leave."

"What? Cas, no -"

"There's no point in you being here, Dean. You can't help me."

Dean's face falls in a flash, his eyes rounding with hurt as he lowers his outreached hand. Castiel can see the way his throat ripples, bulging and bobbing with each swallow. He blinks his eyes a few times and steps forward.

"Okay. Somethin's up. Talk to me, Cas."

"There's nothing to say."

"Well, I beg to differ. I've got a _hell_ of a lot to say."

"I don't want to hear it, Dean."

"Tell me what's wrong."

"No," Castiel rubs his fingertips together in an effort to keep his nails away from his palms. "I-I want you to leave. Please, Dean. I want you to go."

"Just - Just tell me what I've done! We can sort this out, Cas. We can -"

"No, we can't."

A flicker of anger crosses Dean's face. "So you're just gonna throw me out like that?"

"Yes, Dean. Go away!"

" _Look_. I have no frickin' idea what's happenin' here, but there's no way I'm leavin' you like this. You're not bein' yourself, Cas. I mean… Did you even get my messages? You didn't reply."

"I've been busy."

"You can do better than that."

"I don't owe you any kind of explanation."

Dean's brows knit together. He looks genuinely confused now. "Cas… You're my _boyfriend_ , for Christ's sake! So, yeah. I think you _do_ owe me a fuckin' explanation! Like, why you've been ignorin' me and everyone else since Christmas!"

Castiel's jaw starts to tremble, his eyes blinking back tears. He thought he had a few more days at least, but apparently not. Maybe this is it. Maybe now's the time to end this thing once and for all.

"I think we should break up."

The words come out of his mouth in a rush, and now there's no taking them back. He can't stand the way Dean's face drops. The angry blush in his cheeks fades away, leaving his skin a sickly grey colour that turns his stomach. He wants to reach out for him as he stumbles backwards, but he can't. It wouldn't be fair to confuse him like that.

"You… You don't mean that," Dean says, scratching his temple with a shake of his head. "You're just sayin' that 'cause… I dunno! But you don't mean it."

"I do, Dean."

"No."

"Just listen to me -"

" _No_ ," Dean turns around sharply, tears already welling in his eyes. "Don't do this to me, Cas. Don't you fuckin' do this to me…"

Castiel scrubs a stray tear away from his own face. "It was just a bit of fun. W-We were never going to live happily ever after, Dean. I just needed someone, and you were there. I… I _used_ you."

"Why're you sayin' all this?!"

"You deserve to know the truth. I never liked you. Not really."

"Shut up… Oh, God. _Please_ , shut up!"

"You were just a distraction. Nothing more."

"Cas, please -"

"I wanted to make my uncle mad. That's all this was to me - a _game_."

"You're tryin' to hurt me. You're tryin' to push me away, but it's not gonna work."

Castiel chokes on a sob. "It's over. Just go!"

"What did he do to you, baby?"

"I... I don't know what you're talking about…"

"You're uncle, Cas. This is about that asshole, ain't it?"

"What? No. No, it's not."

A muscle in Dean's jaw ticks, his eyelids fluttering as he slowly moves towards Castiel. "I know I've asked this before, and you said everythin' was fine at home… But, Cas. I _know_ somethin's up."

"No. You… You've got it all wrong!"

"Why d'you hurt yourself, Cas?"

"I… I don't…"

"S'alright, baby," Dean carefully takes Castiel's arm, winding him in for another hug. "I've got you, Cas. I've got you."

"No. No, this is wrong."

"Shh…"

"I-I can't," Castiel moans against Dean's shoulder. There are tears spilling over his cheeks, leaving dark patches on the grey material of Dean's undershirt. "I can't do this… I can't…"

"I've got you, baby."

"No. You need to leave," Castiel cries, body writhing weakly against Dean's hold. "It's best - it's best for everyone. J-Just leave me, Dean. _Please_."

"I'm not goin' anywhere."

"You're just going to make it worse! We can't _do_ this anymore, Dean. If my uncle finds out…"

"Then he can come to me about it."

"You don't understand."

"So tell me," Dean cups Castiel's face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. "Tell me the truth, baby. Does he… Does he hurt you?"

Castiel shakes his head, tongue wetting his lips anxiously. "This isn't about him. We're just not right for each other."

"I don't believe you."

"Dean…"

"You can't just stand there and tell me that all of this has been a lie," Dean's face is lined with desperation as he brushes Castiel's hair aside. "Don't say that, Cas. Don't you ever say that."

"I can't do this, Dean. I'm sorry."

"You're scared."

"No, I'm not."

"You can tell me, Cas."

"I'm _not_."

"We can keep goin' around in circles all night if ya want."

Castiel stops trying to break free, his body going as limp as a ragdoll as the fight slowly drains out of him. As much as he hates to admit it, Dean's right. How can he stand here and dismiss everything they've shared together? It's not possible. His time with Dean has been more precious to him than anything else, so how the hell is he supposed to just brush it off? He's not as strong as he wishes he was; he can't hold like a brick wall and _lie_ like that, not when those green eyes are flitting over his face, warm fingers brushing the base of his throat.

"Why won't you just leave? It would be better that way."

Dean sighs. "I told you, Cas. I'm not leavin' you."

"But I'm a mess. You don't need that."

"I need _you_."

"I'm broken, Dean. He… He broke me," Those last words come out in a horrible whisper, so quiet and vulnerable it makes him feel sick. Look how easily he gave in, how quickly he threw himself into Dean's arms. He's pathetic, weak, _useless_ … Dean deserves so much better.

"You're not broken, Cas."

"I am."

"Well, I don't care. You think that dickwad's gonna scare me off? No frickin' way."

Castiel shudders. "If he finds out, he'll punish us both."

"Not if we call the cops first. He can't touch you behind bars."

"He'd find a way…"

Dean's face crumples, thumb catching another tear as it rolls down Castiel's face. "What the hell did that bastard do to you, Cas?"

"I… I can't -"

"Shh… Hey, it's alright. You don't wanna talk about it. I get it."

Castiel sniffs. He _does_ want to tell Dean; he's wanted to tell him everything from the very start. But there's always been that nagging voice in the back of his head, warning him not to poison someone so perfect with his own problems. But what if Lucifer and Mary and everyone else are right? What if Dean feels the same way about him? What if Castiel tells him the truth, and he _doesn't_ run away? Would it make any difference? He's always imagined his uncle as this great, indestructible force - the puppeteer holding his strings. But now he has friends. _Family_. A boy who refuses to leave, who holds him tight and lets him cry on his shoulder. Opal Grove is his _home_ , and for once in his miserable, little life, he actually feels brave enough to tell the truth.

"He… He hurts me… He does, he hurts me," Castiel finally admits, his voice breaking as the words bubble to the surface, like lava spilling over a volcano that's been dormant for far too long. "Oh, God, Dean. He - He _hurts_ me... I-I can't… It's too much. I don't think I can… What am I supposed to do?!"

Dean wraps his arms tighter around his body, pressing him closer until everything is warm and quiet. He feels lips touching his scalp, hands trailing up his back. There's a beautiful moment where his whole world is just _Dean_ , and all the bad things he's done - all the bad things his _uncle_ has done - just slip away. He clings onto Dean like he's the only raft on the ocean, burrowing his face into his shoulder and breathing in his scent. He's crying harder than he's ever cried before, sucking in huge gulps of air that feel like cotton balls in his throat. Dean's breath tickles his ear and whispers against his cheek. For a second, he thinks he hears the other boy crying as well, but then another wave of anxiety pulls him under, and he's suddenly sinking to the floor.

"He hurts me," He keeps repeating, those words flashing before he eyes in neon lights. "He hurts me, Dean. He hurts me a lot. He hurts me really badly…"

"I know. I know, baby. I've got you."

"I-I couldn't… I couldn't say…"

"Shh, I know. S'okay, Cas. I'm gonna keep you safe. I'm not goin' anywhere."

"You will. You'll leave."

"No, I won't."

"I-I'm disgusting… He made me this way. He broke me"

"Show me, baby."

"No. No, I can't. You won't like me anymore."

Dean huffs a watery laugh. "That's not gonna happen, Cas. Trust me on that one."

"But… But I'm not -"

"You're fuckin' gorgeous. Hey, _look at me_. You're perfect."

"No…"

"Yes, you are."

Castiel pulls away slightly, blinking up at Dean with tear-blurred eyes. The sincerity on his face is terrifying. He actually means that; he really believes that's he's gorgeous - _perfect_ even. Castiel wishes he could try on those rose-tinted glasses of his, if only to see what all the fuss is about. He sure doesn't _feel_ perfect.

"Show me."

And this time, he does.

It feels like years pass as he unbuttons his shirt, shrugging away the sleeves and letting it fall to the ground. A chill instantly sweeps over his skin. He's not used to being this exposed; only his uncle has seen him like this before, completely bare for the whole world to gawp at. He can feel Dean's eyes roaming over his body, like starbursts of warmth breaking through the cold. For most couples, this moment would be precious, but not for them. Even with Dean's lust blown pupils catching on the sharp V of his hips for a second, Castiel can't help but feel like a bug under a microscope. He wants to enjoy it, but he knows it won't last for long.

"Sorry," Dean blushes, averting his eyes. "You just… You're beautiful."

"Don't say that."

"I'm only speakin' the truth, Cas."

"That's not the truth," He says thickly as he starts to turn around, revealing himself completely.

He can't see his face, but he hears Dean's breath catching. It's like the silence gets heavier in that moment, clawing at his throat as Dean presses gentle fingers to the small of his back. He can feel them trailing up his body, pausing for just a second before running over the raised stripes of skin running in vertical lines down his shoulder blades. Dean doesn't say a word, not even when Castiel peers behind him. His eyes are fixed on the lashes marring his flesh, like the scarred remnants of torn-off wings. He can remember so vividly the white hot pain of Zachariah's belt against his skin, the sticky feeling of blood staining his bed sheets, the inconceivable agony of moving just a muscle too soon… He remembers the stricken look on his uncle's face afterwards; even _he_ couldn't stand all that blood. But it still didn't stop him from doing the very same thing just six months later.

"Still think I'm beautiful?" He asks in a hoarse whisper, his body starting to shake.

Dean touches his shoulder, wordlessly turning him around. He's trying his best not to cry, but Castiel can see the quiver in his bottom lip. His eyes are red-rimmed, bringing out every singular fleck of golden brown swirling in a sea of green. He always finds himself getting lost in Dean's eyes; they're a place of comfort and warmth, somewhere his uncle can never get to him.

"Yeah, Cas," Dean murmurs softly, cupping one side of his face. "You're still beautiful."

Castiel turns away with a scoff. "You don't mean that."

"Yeah, actually. I do."

"So _this_ is your definition of 'beautiful'? Some punching bag with scars on its back? I'm pathetic, Dean! I couldn't even keep this _one_ secret! I was supposed to protect you and Anna, and I blew it! _Again_."

"Hey! Don't you fuckin' _dare_ blame yourself for this, Cas! This ain't on you."

"Of course it is! I've just ruined everything!"

"How?"

"You weren't supposed to know!"

"Oh, right. So you were plannin' on leavin' this place and goin' back to that asshole? Helluva plan, Cas. Bravo!"

"Don't patronize me, Dean. I was trying to protect you!"

"What? By gettin' yourself frickin' _killed_?!"

"I was protecting you from him!"

"Him?" Dean's face softens, lips quirking with a pained kind of smile. "You really think I'm gonna let Zacha-douche lay a finger on me?"

"You underestimate him."

"He's a bully, Cas. Nothin' more. We tell the cops, get his ass thrown in jail… You'll be _safe_."

"And then what?"

"We'll figure it out."

Castiel covers a hand over his face. "No. _No_ , Dean. It's too risky. They'll take Anna away from me; they'll ship her off to some foster home… And what if they can't prove it? What if he _hurts_ you?"

"He's not gonna hurt any of us, capiche?"

"You don't know that."

"All we've gotta do is go to Bobby. He'll sort it out."

Castiel sniffs. "And what about us? You really think we can just go back to normal?"

"Why not?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"What're you talkin' about?"

" _This_ ," He cries, pointing to the scars on his back, then lifting his bandaged hands in the air. "And _this_. Why the hell would you want to stay?"

"Cas, what -"

"Do you really find _this_ attractive? What's to say you won't just leave me?"

Dean furrows his brow. "You really think that's gonna happen?"

"That's what _always_ happens! People leave! It's in their nature to walk away, Dean. I wouldn't resent you for doing the same."

"I'm not like that, Cas. I won't do that."

Castiel shields a hand over his forehead, staring at the ground in silence. He can feel the tackiness of salty tears drying on his skin, the burn of the blood rising in his cheeks.

"What if you wake up one day and change your mind? What if you realize you made a mistake? I'm nothing exciting, Dean! I'm just the trash my uncle threw aside. What's going to happen when that sinks in?"

"You are _not_ trash, alright?!"

"No. No, you're better than me. You're going to realize that someday. You'll find someone pretty and new and _sane_ , and then you'll leave me!"

Dean cups his face again, his touch gentle but firm. "Hey. Listen to me. _Listen_ to me, baby. I'm never gonna leave you, ya hear me?"

"How can you say that? How do you _know_?!"

"Look at me, Cas -"

"You'll get bored with me. You'll walk away. That's what people do!"

"I'll never get bored of you, Cas."

"But how -"

"Because I _love_ you, goddamit!" Dean cuts him off with a shout, cheeks pink and eyes bright. "I'm in _love_ with you!"

Castiel freezes. Everything goes numb. There's nothing but the beat of Dean's heart slamming against his chest, and the look of utter desperation in his eyes. He's still holding Castiel's face. They're only inches apart. After a confession like that, standing this close is just _dangerous_.

"You… You love me?"

Dean shrugs one shoulder, rubs the back of his neck. It's adorable. "I kinda thought it was obvious."

"Not to me."

"You really didn't know?"

"I… I hoped it wasn't true. For your benefit."

"Don't be an idiot."

"I'm serious," He sighs, more stupid tears rolling down his cheeks. "Why on earth would you want to go and fall in love with me? That wasn't supposed to happen."

"Don't cry, Cas."

"I'm sorry, I just… I'm sorry."

Dean kisses his head, then his nose, then his chin. He kisses him everywhere - sweet and soft - before finally landing on his lips. It's the kind of kiss you read about in those ridiculous teen novels; a dull spark that bursts into a thousand fireworks at the first touch. He closes his eyes against the tears, letting them fall as he runs fingers through Dean's hair. A hand on the small of his back yanks him forward, and then they're chest to chest, kissing with everything they've got. It's slow, but deep. _Exploratory._ They're mapping out every inch of one another, not wanting to miss a single piece of perfection.

"Such an ass," He mumbles between kisses. "Shouldn't have fallen in love with me… What were you thinking?"

Dean smiles against his lips.

"This isn't fair… How am I supposed to… Oh, God… How do I…"

"Don't talk."

"You should leave."

Dean chuckles roughly. "We still on that?"

"I'm trying…"

"Well, don't. I just wanna kiss you."

"But -"

"I'm gonna say this again," Dean tilts his chin upwards, staring him straight in the face with a look of pure seriousness. "You're not goin' back to your uncle. I'm not gonna leave you. You're safe. I _love_ you."

Castiel swallows thickly, the air escaping his lungs in a single breath. "Could you maybe say that one more time?"

"I love you," Dean grins as he wraps an arm around his waist. "I love you, Cas."

He can't believe it. _Still_ , after hearing it for the fifth time. It just seems too good to be true. What if Dean's wrong about Zachariah, and the police can't arrest him? How is he supposed to leave Dean after this? He's just found out that the boy he's been in love with for almost two months actually feels the same way about him. It was bad enough when he thought that Dean simply had a crush on him, but now? There's no way he could leave things like this, not when that light at the end of the tunnel is burning brighter than ever.

"Dean," He whispers, lips ghosting the shell of his ear. He's shaking as he takes his boyfriend's hand. "Take me to bed, please."

"Cas, what -"

"I'd like you to take me to bed."

Dean's eyes drop down to his lips, resting there for just a moment before meeting his gaze again. It's probably the first time he's ever seen Dean Winchester look so petrified.

"Okay," Dean swallows thickly, then nods his head. "Yeah. Okay, Cas."

They tumble into bed, kissing and trembling and whispering words of endearment. It's perfect - so _dizzyingly_ perfect - that everything else just seems to melt away. All he can feel is the hard planes of Dean's back, the wet press of lips against his flesh, hot breath tickling his ear, hands touching him in places he's never been touched before… He didn't think it possible to fall for Dean any further, but he was wrong. This is love. _This_ right here is love, and hell if he's going to let his uncle take this away from him. He's going to find a way to save his sister, to get her out of that awful place, but he _won't_ sacrifice Dean. _The boy who loves him_. He still can't get over those three words, the words he never thought would ever be uttered to him in a million years.

It's not until later, when he's curled up in Dean's arms, still pressing lazy kisses against his skin as he slowly falls asleep, that he realizes… He never got the chance to say it back.


	21. Chapter 21

**This chapter is pretty short, but I thought I better prepare you for what happens next... There's going to be a lot of abuse and elements of non-con in the next couple of chapters, so fair warning. Please leave a review if you get the chance! Your feedback means a lot to me. Thanks for reading :)**

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Castiel wakes up slowly, savouring each second of bliss as his eyes blink open, focussing on the freckled face lying on the pillow in front of him. Sunlight streaming through the open window scatters across the bed, dancing along the sharp edges of Dean's face. His skin is golden, long lashes catching flecks of the sun like morning light being filtered through the trees.

A soft smile touches Castiel's lips as he reaches forward, gently ruffling the flattened tufts of hair on Dean's head. He's struck with an overwhelming sense of calm. Dean's hands are pressed against his back, lazily tracing the scars on his shoulders while he sleeps. Having someone touch him like that, in the place where his flesh was once ragged and torn, sends a shiver down his spine. The last person to get this close to him was his uncle, and those aren't memories he wants to think about right now…

But this is _Dean_ , and Castiel trusts him with everything he has. Maybe it's foolish to put your faith in someone so willingly, but who cares? It's a good feeling, knowing he has someone to lean on for once in his life.

With a no doubt goofy-looking grin on his face, Castiel carefully unwraps Dean's arms from around his waist and slips out of bed. The other boy wrinkles his nose and clutches at the covers with a soft whimper, and it's all Castiel can do to keep from kissing him awake. But that wouldn't be fair; Dean deserves the rest (plus, the sight of him all curled up like that, muttering nonsense into his pillow, is far too adorable to disrupt).

Castiel spends a few minutes just staring at his sleeping face, counting the seconds between each snore. It's extremely creepy, he knows, but what can he say? He's in love. Don't people in love act crazy all the time? It's a simple fact of life that no one gets to avoid.

When Dean starts to stir, Castiel finally manages to tear himself away. He throws on a pair of sweats and goes to find a shirt, pausing when he spots the pile of discarded clothing peeking out from under the bed. In a moment of pure spontaneity (because Dean is his boyfriend, and this is what boyfriends do), Castiel grabs the faded Pink Floyd t-shirt Dean was wearing last night and puts it on himself. The material is pretty worn, but still soft against his skin. He can't help but chuckle at how the shirt practically hangs off his narrow shoulders, stretched too far by Dean's broader frame. Castiel doesn't mind though; if anything, it just adds to the charm of wearing someone else's clothes.

After feeding Bubbles and quickly brushing his teeth, Castiel folds the rest of Dean's stuff and leaves it on the side for him. God only knows where this domestic alter ego of his came from, but it's kind of nice being able to do something useful without feeling constantly under pressure. And folding Dean's clothes is strangely soothing, even when he finds half a pack of cigarettes in the inside pocket of his leather jacket… Castiel used to find the whole smoking thing pretty hot, but now just the thought of Dean's lungs blackening with ash makes him feel sick. He's going to wean that boy off the tobacco if it's the last thing he does.

"Look at what you're doing to me," He mutters to Dean, who's still busy chewing on the corner of his pillow. "I sound like one of those housewives who watches the clock until their husband gets back from work."

 _Not that I mind playing the role of overprotective partner._

Castiel sighs at his own stupidity and heads for the door, glancing over his shoulder at Dean one last time. He doesn't want to imagine how pathetic he looks, lingering in the doorway with a dreamy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Now that he knows that Dean feels the same way, it's like his love for the other boy has been cranked up a notch, to the point when he can't help but smile and stare like an idiot with nothing better to do. But then again, what on earth could be _better_ than loving Dean Winchester?

"I'm going to get coffee," He whispers. "I'll be back soon."

And with that, he steps outside and closes the door behind him, the image of Dean lying butt-naked beneath the sheets still engraved into his mind.

There's a grin on his face even when he reaches the kitchen. No matter how hard he tries to school it, it just keeps coming back. He can't stop thinking about last night. So much happened in such a small space of time, and yet it felt like the longest night of his life.

He remembers the way Dean touched him. _Held_ him. He can still feel his lips ghosting his flesh, fingers tangling in his hair and breath hot between his thighs. It was as if in that one moment, all of his worries and insecurities - everything about himself that his uncle taught him to hate - melted away into something beautiful. For once in his life, he actually didn't hate himself. Can you believe that? Castiel Novak not despising his very existence, if only for one night. It's a miracle.

Maybe Bobby was right after all; maybe there _are_ parts of him that aren't completely awful, bits and pieces that are more than just a crumbling mess. It feels weird to suddenly stop wishing you were better somehow. It's a sensation akin to losing a limb; self-hatred is something he's been carrying around for a _very_ long time.

"Stop," He grumbles to himself, snatching the coffee from the top shelf with a shake of his head. "Don't even think about that."

He's busy adding a few extra tablespoons of coffee to the machine (Dean likes it strong) when someone clears their throat behind him. Castiel flinches and turns around. It's probably Charlie and Gabe, ready to tease him relentlessly for wearing a shirt that is quite clearly Dean's.

But it's not them he finds standing in the kitchen doorway with their arms folded. It's _Lucifer_.

"So much for goodbye," The other boy says with a smirk.

Castiel sighs. "Ah, yes. About that…"

"I'm guessing you've finally seen sense, hey?"

"Something like that."

Lucifer nods at Dean's shirt and raises an eyebrow, smirk shifting into something more playful. "Looks like someone had a good night."

"Oh, um… I-I've sorted things out. With Dean, I mean. Everything's okay now."

"Does this mean you're not leaving?"

"Well, I don't know about that."

"Jesus, Cassy. You just said everything's okay."

"Between me and Dean."

"So you're still going back to your abusive asshole of an uncle?"

Castiel considers this for a moment, nails dancing against his palms anxiously. He remembers the way Dean reassured him last night, how he vowed to keep him and Anna safe from Zachariah. And he meant it. He _knows_ he meant it. Castiel's never felt more safe than he did in Dean's arms.

"No," He swallows thickly, squaring his shoulders to no one in particular. "No, I'm not going back to that man."

Lucifer nods. "Good for you, Cassy."

"Dean, he… he's going to help me get Anna back, to stop my uncle from hurting anyone ever again," Castiel smiles at the memory of Dean kissing the space between his shoulder blades, whispering that promise against his skin over and over until they both fell asleep.

"Did something happen last night with you and Dean?"

"What? Why?"

"You're acting more smitten than usual."

Castiel flushes darkly. "Well, he may have said a few things… Told me he loved me…"

"Oh, wow."

"Don't sound too excited."

"No, that's great. Seriously, Cassy," Lucifer reaches forward and touches his shoulder. It's kind of awkward, but also pretty sweet. "I'm happy for you. I just hope that Winchester treats you right."

Castiel can't help but laugh at Lucifer's discomfort; he's obviously not great at expressing his emotions.

"You're starting to sound like my father, you know."

"Ugh. Don't say that."

"But, in all seriousness, _thank you_. I appreciate your concern, Luke."

Lucifer opens his mouth to respond, but everything turns to white noise when Castiel sees the approaching figure behind him. The kitchen suddenly feels half the size and twice as hot when the older man steps through the doorway, dark suit blending into the morning shadows creeping in the corners. There's a smile on his face - smug with triumph - and there's a glint in his cold, grey eyes that make's Castiel's skin crawl.

"Hello, Castiel."

"What are you doing here, uncle?"

Lucifer whips around with a venomous look on his face, but Zachariah doesn't even notice him; his hard gaze is fixed solely on Castiel.

"I'm here to take you home."

Castiel turns cold. "But… But I'm not supposed to leave until the weekend."

"Yes, well. I just signed your discharge papers early."

"Why?"

"You'd do well not to question me, boy."

"Bobby didn't say anything to me."

"You mean Mr. Singer?" Zachariah scoffs. "Are you calling me a liar, Castiel? Because if you are -"

"No, I'm not! I just -"

"I called Mr. Singer a few days ago. He said it was fine for you to leave early, just as long as you were in the right state of mind."

"I'm not crazy."

"And I never said you were. Now quit the dramatics and come with me, before you end up making a scene."

Castiel winces when Zachariah grabs his wrist, the memory of those fingers digging bruises into his flesh bringing tears to his eyes. His hands are still bandaged, but the sting of his uncle's grasp is enough to send shooting pains through his arm, intensifying the dull ache from his old wounds in seconds.

"You're hurting me, uncle…"

"Oh, don't play the victim with me. I'm sick of your games, Castiel!"

"Let me go!"

"Oh, I'll let you go when we get to the car," Zachariah says with a growl, veins pulsing as he starts to drag Castiel towards the door.

He doesn't get far before another pair of hands are yanking him away, releasing Castiel from the confines of his uncle's clammy palms. Lucifer's face is blotchy with anger as he shoves Zachariah aside and crowds him up against the table.

"He said let him go, asshole."

Zachariah's expression is livid, but his fury soon fades to shock as Lucifer gets closer. Castiel watches from a distance as his uncle's eyes widen with recognition, lips mouthing silent words of disbelief.

"You," He whispers, his anger quickly returning. "What on earth are you doing here?"

Lucifer sneers. "Haven't you been keeping tabs on me?"

"You disappeared four years ago. Your mother… I thought she was dead."

"She might be. I haven't seen her since she ran off with her fiancé."

"And your father?"

Lucifer laughs bitterly. "You honestly think I'm still in contact with that spineless dick? He went to play house with the Brady Bunch when I was just a _baby_ , for Christ's sake. He doesn't want anything to do with me."

"Don't pretend he never visited you."

"Stopping by for my birthday now and again hardly counts."

"He made his choice," Zachariah spits. "He should've stuck by it, not tried to cling onto you both."

Castiel just stands there, thoughts reeling and heart thumping as the two continue to face off. Their conversation doesn't make any sense. How does Zachariah know who Lucifer is? How does he know about his family situation? Surely if Lucifer knew his uncle, he'd tell Castiel. Why would he keep that from him? Just yesterday he told Lucifer everything - stuff he hadn't even told Dean yet - and he just sat there, acting like it was all news to him. What kind of twisted game are these two trying to play?

"My father hated the responsibility of juggling two families. He was always going to run away, Zach. You know that as well as I do."

"He should've been focussed on the one he chose!"

"You mean the one you _forced_ him to choose? He never really had a say in it, did he?"

Zachariah chuckles darkly. "All I had to do was wave a wad of cash in his face to make him change his mind. He was never loyal to you or your mother, Lukas. Don't delude yourself with such fantasies. He was _always_ going to choose the Miltons over your sad little excuse of a family."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Castiel suddenly butts in. "What does Luke's father have to do with us?"

"Stay out of this, Cassy."

"Are you serious?"

"You don't want to get involved. Trust me."

Castiel clenches his fists. "Well, clearly I'm already involved! Now tell me what's going on."

"You really are an imbecile, aren't you?" Zachariah shakes his head. "Can't you put two and two together for once? I know thinking's never been your strong suit, but please."

Castiel flicks a desperate look at Lucifer, who's busy staring at the ground. A muscle ticks in his jaw, eyes refusing to meet his gaze. He's obviously missing something big here, but he can't for the life of him figure it out. He knows all about Lucifer's parents, about the second family his dad chose to be with after Lucifer was born, about the guy his mom ran off with when he was fourteen. But what does that have to do with _his_ dad, or the Milton family in general? He's never even seen Lucifer before in his life, not before coming to Opal Grove.

He's admittedly always felt some strange pull towards the other boy, but that's just because he can relate to his story. They both have runaway fathers, and mothers who don't care. But it's not like their two families are connected in any way. How could they be? Unless… But no. No, that doesn't make sense. That _can't_ be it. Someone would have told him, surely. Lucifer would have said something ages ago.

"You still don't understand," Zachariah squeezes the bridge of his nose. "Oh, Castiel. Poor, poor, Castiel."

"Leave him be."

"Don't you dare defend him, you mongrel! He is _not_ your blood."

Lucifer huffs a humourless laugh. "But that's not entirely true, is it? No matter how hard you try to sweep our history under the carpet, your precious family will never be completely perfect again. You'll always have our father to thank for that."

Castiel's breath catches. "What… What did you just say?"

"Our father, Cassy. _Our_ father."

"I-I don't understand."

"Yes, you do."

"No. No, you would've told me," Castiel's heart stutters, nails itching to break the skin of his palms. "This can't be true. My father never had another son. He - He never said… _You_ never said! How could I not know?!"

Lucifer swallows roughly. "I'm sorry, Cassy. I didn't… I thought telling you would be a mistake."

"So you decided to lie to my face instead?! Do you really hate me that much?"

"No, that's not -"

"I destroyed your family. Of course you hate me."

"At first, yes. I resented you," Lucifer scrubs a hand over his face. "But then I got to know you. You're my little brother, Castiel! We're family."

"Families don't deceive each other like this!"

Zachariah shrugs Lucifer away, brushing off his suit, and grabs Castiel's arm again.

"I'll explain everything in the car."

"Tell me now!" Castiel's surprised by his own courage, the unshakable strength in his voice making Zachariah take a step back.

They stand there, staring relentlessly into each other's eyes, before Zachariah finally breaks. Castiel's never seen him so vulnerable before, with things finally not going his way for once. He's clearly at war with himself here, not sure what to do or say, but it takes just a few minutes for him to spill the whole truth like the closet coward he really is.

"Before you were born, my sister - your mother - was going through a phase. She was young and reckless, with no idea where her life was going. She told us she'd fallen in love with a musician, that they were going to run away together and live happily ever after. But of course, this mystery fellow wasn't all what he seemed."

Castiel's throat ripples, the story already sounding familiar.

"He was broke, with another woman on the side. She was _pregnant_ , and so was my sister. But she was naïve to believe that he loved her the most, so she decided to stay with him. When both the babies were born, your father would run back and to whenever he could. But he was never much of a father to either of you. His career was a mess, he couldn't afford to support you both… He had to make a choice. Either he married my sister, or he chose to stay with his skanky piece of trash off the streets."

Lucifer growls. "Don't talk about my mother like that."

"Oh, she abandoned you! Get over it."

Castiel shakes his head. "So, what? You paid him off? Bribed him into choosing my mom to save your family's reputation?"

"How could my sister care for a child on her own? What would people think?"

"What does that matter?"

"See, Castiel. That right there is your problem. You got that foolishness from your mother."

"You couldn't stand the thought of people finding out the truth about my dad, so you forced her into a loveless marriage?"

"I wouldn't have people believing that my sister was involved in some sordid affair!"

"But she _was_ ," Castiel cries. "And all she needed was your support!"

Zachariah puffs his chest, face turning red, and tries to stare him into submission. But Castiel isn't having any of it. He's done with being the victim, with always bowing down to his uncle and doing everything he says. All this time he's had a brother! It's been kept as some dirty secret, as if Castiel doesn't have the right to know his real family. What kind of person would begrudge someone of that? His father was a cheat who buckled under the pressure and ran away, and his mother was depressed with the thought of being abandoned. He's never understood why his uncle hates him so much, but now it makes sense; he blames him for what happened to his sister. He was the unexpected child that tore everything apart. He _caused_ this.

"How long have you known?" He asks Lucifer in a whisper, eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears.

Lucifer sighs. "You were wearing dad's coat the day you arrived. It has his initials stitched in the collar. It was supposed to be mine, but…"

"So you've known since the start, and you didn't say anything?"

"I thought you'd be a pompous asshole."

"And now?"

"Now I know you're nothing like your family. You're _good_ , Castiel. You're my brother."

Zachariah scoffs. "Nonsense! You share the same idiotic father, but that's it. Castiel is a Milton, no matter how hard he tries to deny it."

"You've treated him like crap since he was twelve!"

"I've been trying to save his soul!"

"He's _gay_. Not the antichrist! Why the hell can't you just love him regardless?"

"You expect me to love a dirty faggot?"

"You're sick in the head."

"I'm trying to do what's right for the boy! Now come on, Castiel. We're leaving this dump for good."

Castiel yanks his arm from Zachariah's grip, hissing at the finger-shaped bruises already tattooed around his wrist. Right now, he couldn't care less about the lies… Lucifer has shown him more kindness in these past three months than his uncle has in a lifetime. The choice is obvious.

"Luke," He says calmly, eyes never leaving Zachariah's face. "Go find Bobby. Tell him to come quickly."

"But, Cas -"

" _Now_ , Luke! Before it's too late."

Lucifer hesitates for a moment, and then he's gone.

"I knew you'd do this," Zachariah rolls his eyes, almost as if he's bored. "This place has changed you, and not for the better. That's why I've come to take you away, to somewhere more fitting. I made a mistake bringing you here. I see that now. I was trying to spare you the pain, but… It would seem you need it."

Castiel takes a shuddered breath. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Oh, I beg to differ. You see, I know your weakness, Castiel, and that's your sister."

"What have you done to her?"

"Nothing," Zachariah's lips pull back in an ugly, shark-like grin. "Not yet, anyway. Not unless you make this more difficult than it has to be."

"Where is she?!"

"With your aunt Naomi. They're somewhere safe."

"If you touch her, I'll -"

"You'll do _nothing_ , Castiel. Let's be honest. The only way you're going to save your sister is if you come with me. I'll let her go once you've arrived."

Castiel bites back a sob, his fists shaking by his sides. "Arrived where?"

"You'll see."

"Where are you going to take me?"

"Does this mean you'll come without a fight?"

"Just tell me!"

Zachariah fixes his tie and smirks. "It's a place for people like you, with similar… _conditions_. They'll be able to help you in ways that Opal Grove never could."

"You can't _help_ me, uncle!"

"Oh, just watch me."

Castiel squeezes his eyes shut, hot tears gushing down his face as he tries to think. He promised Dean he wouldn't go with Zachariah, but now things have changed. He doesn't doubt for one second that his uncle is lying about Anna; if hurting her will help get him what he wants, then he'll do it in a flash. If he just goes with him, then his sister will be safe. What choice does he have? He made a vow to look after her, and he intends to keep it.

"You promise me you won't hurt Anna?"

"Anna is a good child. I don't _want_ to hurt her, Castiel."

"Just answer the question."

Zachariah purses his lips into a flat line. "I promise not to hurt her."

"Then I'll go."

"You're making the right decision."

"Then why do I feel like I'm marching to my death?"

Zachariah huffs. "Again with the dramatics. Where I'm taking you is a _good_ place. They'll help you."

"Do you actually believe that?"

"With all my heart."

"Then maybe you're the one who needs help."

"Just follow me," Zachariah snatches his arm and pulls him away, fingers branding him with burning stripes of agony. "I'll have no more of this."

Castiel doesn't try to resist as his uncle drags him out the door and towards the exit. The pain in his arm feels dull, the pure fear coursing through his veins having a numbing effect on his body. It's like the world slows down as they step outside the double doors and into the chill of the morning. The sun is a brilliant white above the buildings ahead, but the grass is speckled with frost. It reminds him of one of those pictures you get on postcards. It's hard to believe that the world can ever be this beautiful unless you see it with your own eyes.

"You never called Bobby, did you?"

Zachariah snarls. "He wouldn't condone this. I had to do it alone."

"So you're kidnapping me."

"I'm your uncle."

"That doesn't make a difference. This is _illegal_."

"It's for your own good."

Castiel sniffs. The cold air dries his tears in seconds, making his skin feel weirdly stiff. It's like wearing a mask. His whole life he's been wearing a mask, but it's about time he finally takes it off. What does he have to lose anymore?

"I'm in love," He says with a watery smile, the heat of his uncle's disapproving glare burning through his skull. "You were right. I _did_ meet someone. He loves me too."

"Don't talk like that."

"Like what?"

"You're taking pleasure in your sins," Zachariah tightens his grip with a scowl. "You're a disgrace, Castiel. You make me feel sick."

"Good."

"What did you just say?!"

"I said _good_ ," Castiel meets his uncle's gaze with fire in his eyes. "I'm glad I make you feel sick. If you think that two boys loving each other is disgraceful because they both have dicks, then that's _your_ problem. The fact that it turns your stomach just proves how beautiful it really is. Your views are outdated, uncle. You're living on the wrong side of history, and one day you'll see that."

He only has a few seconds to bask in his rebellion before a fist meets his face with a sickening crunch. Warm blood splatters his skin (his nose is probably broken) while hands curl around his arms and heave him into the air. He's choking on blood and saliva as Zachariah hauls him into the back of his car. He's dipping in and out of consciousness, only distantly aware of what's happening around him. His cheek is pressed against something rough, and the world is muffled and blurry. He's slowly drifting away…

"I'm going to teach you some respect," Zachariah hisses down his ear, hands gripping his chin as a cloth covers his face. "I'm going to fix you."

A sharp smell hits him with a dizzying wave of nausea. Castiel can feel the blood rushing in his head, temples pulsing and stomach clenching. It's like someone is dragging him down, down, down into a pit of nothingness. Is he dying? Is this what dying feels like?

The last thing he remembers is the screeching of tyres swallowing the faraway sound of someone calling his name, and then everything turns to darkness.


	22. Chapter 22

**So sorry for the lateness of this chapter! Things have been crazy at home lately. Trigger warnings for abuse and mild non-con. This chapter is pretty depressing, but I hope you still enjoy it somewhat. Please leave a review if you can! Thanks for reading, guys**

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He stirs from his drug-soaked sleep with Dean's name on his lips. It comes out as a whimper, his raw throat mangling the word into something unintelligible. Everything aches. The world seems to dip and spin as he tries to sit up, stomach clenching with the effort to not throw up. He can barely see a thing in the dank little room his uncle apparently dumped him in, but that might just be his vision slowly catching up. He's dizzy with pain, nose still throbbing from Zachariah's fist. Sleeping on a cold, concrete floor probably didn't help much.

It takes a few minutes for everything to come back into focus, his eyes finally distinguishing the brick walls and shabby little bed in front of him. The room is otherwise bare; there's not even a window to break up the surrounding darkness. It feels more like a prison cell than a bedroom (not that Castiel was expecting a five star hotel or anything). The ceiling is caked in cobwebs, the cracks in the floor unevenly filled with lumps of rock and mud. There's a whistle of cold air prickling his skin, and the distant sounds of muffled voices and footsteps outside the wooden door.

It doesn't seem real. _None_ of this seems real. People don't _get_ kidnapped by their uncles and stashed away in boxy little chambers… That kind of drama is reserved for the movies. Why can't his life just be normal? _Boring_. What on earth did he ever do to deserve this?

A sudden shift in the corner of the room makes him jump.

"Is Dean your boyfriend?" A voice asks, the figure of a young girl slowly emerging from the shadows. "You were saying his name when you came around."

Castiel takes a deep breath and tries to steady his heart beat. It may be dark in here, but he can still make out a fuzzy halo of brown hair stuffed into a messy bun, and a pair of grey-green eyes blinking back at him. The girl might be skinny and frail, but her expression is hard. She reminds him of Jo in a way.

"Who are you?" He asks.

The girl holds out her hand and smiles. "Name's Dorothy. Now answer the question."

"Yes, he's my boyfriend. What does it matter?"

"Just wanted to make sure you were one of us, and not one of their spies."

Castiel frowns. "One of you? What does that even mean?"

"A homosexual."

"Oh," He says dumbly, nails digging into the crumbling wall behind him. "So you're gay as well?"

"That's right. As gay as a daisy in May."

Castiel smiles. For some reason, that puts him at ease a little bit.

"Do you know where we are?"

"Not exactly. But I know why we're here... They think they can change us."

"Yeah, I figured that."

"You been some place like this before?"

"No, not really."

"Well, you better brace yourself. It's not a walk in the park."

Castiel swallows thickly. "Are we the only ones here?"

"God, no. There's a couple dozen of us. They try to pair girls and boys together to 'encourage healthy relations'."

"They want us to have sex?"

"Don't get any ideas," Dorothy smirks, fiddling with the loose hairs falling out of her bun. "They think our natural instincts will win out eventually, makes us go crazy and start humping everything."

"Interesting theory."

"They're insane, I'm telling you. I mean, locking kids up? That's wrong on so many levels."

Castiel remembers the cold glint in his uncle's eyes as he dragged him away from Opal Grove, fingers tight around his wrists. It was merciless. He couldn't give a damn about the legal consequences, just as long as he doesn't get caught. But he _will_ get caught. Castiel knows this. Lucifer saw him with Zachariah, and _someone_ was outside when they drove away. They must have seen the license plate on the car, or at least followed it. It's the 21st century; the police can work miracles with that kind of information. _He's going to be okay._

"I'm Castiel, by the way. Castiel Novak."

Dorothy huffs a laugh. "So your family's the religious type, huh?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You're named after the angel Cassiel, right? My mom made me go to Bible camp when I was twelve."

Castiel shrugs. "My uncle's devoted to his faith."

"And that's why he hates you being gay?"

"It's against God's will apparently."

"Oh, that old lie," Dorothy moves a little closer, until Castiel can see the thin white scars crisscrossing her cheekbones. "My family just pretends to be religious to make themselves look better. It allows them to be judgemental asses without turning any heads."

Castiel scoffs. "That sounds familiar. Is that why they sent you here too?"

"They found out I was messaging some girl online. I haven't even _done_ anything with anyone before, but they wanted to nip it in the bud before it gets out of hand."

"That's horrible."

"I'm afraid most parents are."

Castiel thinks about the Winchesters, about Mary's warmth and kindness, and John's surly affection. They're nothing like the Miltons; they _love_ their children.

"Not all parents are cruel. There are good ones out there."

"Shame we got the ones we did then, hey?"

"I suppose so."

Dorothy leans her back against the wall, shoulder brushing Castiel's, and studies his face for a moment. "So what's your story? How did your uncle find out about you?"

"He's always had his suspicions. But once he guessed that I was seeing someone, well... Let's just say he wasn't overly pleased."

"Does your boyfriend know where you've gone?"

Castiel rubs the back of his neck. "My uncle sort of, um… _kidnapped_ me. Not sure if that's the correct term, but anyway. I was at Opal Grove - it's this hospital for troubled teenagers - and my uncle took me away without telling anyone first. I never got a chance to say goodbye to Dean."

Dorothy hums. "That's messed up."

"Indeed."

"He'll get what's coming to him. They _all_ will someday."

"You really think that?"

"I have to… I'd just go crazy otherwise."

The rolling in his stomach suddenly becomes unbearable, forcing him onto his feet in a flash.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

Dorothy grimaces. "There's a bathroom just through there. Don't get any on the seat."

Castiel staggers to the toilet with a hand clutching his stomach, dropping to his knees at the very last second to throw up his guts. His throat feels like it's on fire after several minutes of heaving and coughing. By the time he spits out the last of his stomach contents, his arms and legs are trembling with the effort of vomiting for fifteen minutes straight.

Dorothy looks more amused than sympathetic when he finally comes crawling back.

"It's that stuff they give you to knock you out," She explains with a shrug. "You'll be feeling pretty queasy for a few hours, but it'll soon wear off."

Castiel groans. "What the hell is this place?"

"The closest thing to hell on earth."

"That's comforting, thanks."

"Would you rather I paint you a pretty picture to raise your hopes?"

"No," He sighs. "I just can't believe my uncle would send me here."

"It's hard… When the people who you thought loved you suddenly turn their backs on you. What are you supposed to think?" Dorothy lets her head fall back against the wall with a soft thud. "You start off hating them, and then you start hating _yourself_ … It's like a rollercoaster of emotions. You're constantly tossing the blame about, trying to understand how this could happen to you. It gets so _tiring_ after a while."

Castiel stares at her profile for a moment, the dark shadows cast over her face making her seem like something out of a gothic novel. It's comforting to know that he's not alone in this, even if his 'roommate' happens to be one of those deep and cynical people who embraces their crappy life without batting an eyelid.

"How long have you been here?"

Dorothy wrinkles her nose, mentally counting the days. "About three weeks I think."

"You _think_?"

"It all blurs together."

Castiel can barely imagine spending the night here, let alone three weeks.

"Well, don't worry," He says, clearing his throat. "Dean won't stop looking until he finds me. Nor my brother."

Dorothy's smile doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"This place is completely off the grid," She pushes off the wall with a shrug. "I've been waiting for my knight in shining armour for far too long now. There's no way we're getting out of here."

"Do you have to be so negative?"

"I'm being realistic. I've seen the things they do here, Castiel. These people are _ruthless_ … There's no way they're letting us go without a fight."

Before Castiel can answer, the heavy clunk of a turning lock makes him flinch. Dorothy simply turns her head towards the door as it swings open. The two men that come walking through look like they've been plucked right out of a low budget action movie, both clad in dark grey suits with their hair slicked back. But it's the woman standing between them that catches Castiel's eye. She's eerily perfect - all blonde waves and glossy, pink lips to match her dazzling, white smile. He's instantly wary of her.

"Well, hello there," The woman says, flashing her teeth as one of the men places two bowls onto the ground. "I thought I'd come see our newbie before our morning sessions begin."

Castiel swallows roughly. "Morning sessions?"

"Oh, don't worry. You'll pick it up soon enough. Just eat your breakfast and then we'll join the rest of the group."

He was expecting lumpy grey porridge, but his breakfast is simply a bowl of cornflakes. He doesn't know whether to be relieved or terrified.

"What, um… What do these 'sessions' entail exactly?"

The woman's smile suddenly turns dangerous, eyes glinting in a predatory kind of way.

"Like I said: you'll pick it up."

Castiel silently nods and starts to eat (what else can he do?). Each mouthful tastes like cardboard, sliding down his throat slowly, like it's trying to climb its way back up. Eating under the intense scrutiny of Mrs. Perfect and her two cronies only makes it worse. He feels like a lab rat, tail tucked between his legs as he tries to go about his business in front of an audience. It's just wrong. _Unnatural_. He's waiting for the punchline, for someone to jump out and tell him that this is all some sick prank to teach him a lesson.

But of course, it never comes. He's _really_ been kidnapped by his uncle, and he's _really_ eating cornflakes on a concrete floor with a bunch of strangers watching him closely. _This_ is his reality, as sick as it may be. _This_ is real.

"You ready to go?"

"Yeah," He says, forcing down one last bite to hide his nerves. "Sure."

And then he and Dorothy are being led down a dark corridor, nails inching deeper and deeper into his palms with every passing second. God only knows where this lady is taking them, or what these sessions even involve, but he's at least certain of one thing: there's something sinister going on here.

* * *

"Good morning, everyone. We have a new member with us today."

Castiel cringes as every head in the room turns to face him. Dorothy wasn't kidding about the numbers; there's got to be at least twenty other kids in here - maybe even more. They're all sat crossed-legged on the floor, dishevelled and wide-eyed like a box of abandoned puppies on the side of the street. The twisting in his stomach sends a cold bead of sweat rolling down his neck, hands trembling as he tries to fake a smile.

"Okay, Castiel. This is how it's going to go," The woman says in a patronizing tone of voice, like a teacher showing the ropes to a new student. "My name's Lilith, and I'm in charge here. You can call me Lil if you're feeling adventurous. Just do as I say and stick to the rules, and everything will run smoothly."

"You're in charge?"

"Don't underestimate me because I'm woman. That's such a cliché, you know."

"That's really not what I -"

"Just take a seat over by the front," She smiles tightly. "First of all, we're going to watch a little video."

Castiel hesitates, then follows Dorothy to an empty space in the second row. They're sat next to some skinny boy with large, brown eyes, and the shadow of a beard coming in. He can't be much older than Sam.

"Try not to laugh," Dorothy whispers against his ear.

Castiel frowns. Why on earth would he laugh? It doesn't make sense until one of Lilith's men pops a tape into the ancient box of a TV at the front of the room. The grainy video that fizzes onto the screen can only be described as terrifyingly hilarious.

 _"Family,"_ A voice narrates over the footage of a young (straight) couple swinging an infant child between their legs. The sun above them is shining, setting the honey-coloured streaks in the woman's hair alight, and everyone present is wearing a huge, gummy smile, like they're trying to prove their happiness to someone. Maybe that's the whole point of this video.

 _"What makes a family, a family?"_

Dorothy nudges his shoulder. "Here it comes."

 _"Family, by very definition, is 'a group consisting of two parents and their children living together as a unit'. Look it up if you don't believe me."_ The scene suddenly changes. It's a new family (a middle aged couple - dark skinned - and their teenage son, all sitting at a dining table). _"A mother. A father. A child. As long as you have these key components, the perfect family is within your reach. But what if you were to change the ingredients, ignore the natural way of life?"_

The scene changes again, this time fading into the image of a young girl sat on a couch, surrounded by beer cans and dirty clothes. She looks skinny, with purple half-moons beneath her eyes. Her hair is lank, her skin ashen. She's sniffing back tears as two men come bustling into the room, throwing insults at each other without even sparing a glance at the child. The scene freezes as one of them swings a punch, the voiceover coming back again.

 _"Here, we've altered the recipe. Without the loving care of a mother, this poor girl has had to suffer the abuses of two fathers. How will she become a woman without a mother's guidance? How will she understand what is socially acceptable, who she should and shouldn't marry? Having two fathers will only confuse her view of the world. She'll never know the difference between right and wrong. Her twisted upbringing will trick her into believing that men should be with men, and women should be with women. She'll never have a child of her own."_

Castiel scoffs, earning him a deathly glare from Lilith. How can people still think like this? There's next to no evidence to suggest that having same sex parents will make a child gay themselves. It's not some highly contagious disease, for Christ's sake.

Dorothy grabs his arm. "Oh! This is my favourite part."

The screen splits - the left side showing the family from the beginning playing at the park, and the right side showing the two men yanking their daughter down the street.

 _"Why should innocent children have to endure this kind of manipulation? Together, with the help of parents all over the globe, we can return the word 'family' back to its rightful definition."_

Castiel side-glances Dorothy, who's mouthing the words off by heart with a mockingly sombre expression. He has to bite his bottom lip to keep himself from snickering aloud. She must have watched this video every day for the past three weeks, the laughably ignorant dialogue engraving itself into her mind. It baffles him how anyone could consider something so absurd as a straight propaganda video to be effective in any way. Seeing the contrast between two fake families doesn't make him want to suddenly stop liking boys.

 _"Let's stop the cruelty, the brainwashing, the ludicrous support of such a criminal offence. Let's return the world to its natural order. A mother. A father. A child. The way it's supposed to be."_

As soon as the screen fades to black, Dorothy starts clapping.

"That's really powerful," She says, pretending to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. "It's just as moving as the last twenty times I've seen it."

Lilith sucks her teeth. "Really, Dorothy? You want to do this again? Because you know I'm more than happy to."

"What? I'm just praising the message of the video."

"You think you're rather clever, don't you?"

"Of course not. I'm sick in the head, right? I'm breaking the 'natural order' by being a homosexual."

"That's right."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

Lilith purses her lips, studying Dorothy from a distance for a few moments, and then she snaps her fingers. The guy who brought their breakfast slithers up beside her like a serpent, ready to meet her demands. Castiel wonders if the people who work here used to be prisoners themselves, so ashamed to be who they really are that they ended up turning into these robots. The thought makes him shudder.

"Ten lashes should do the trick," Lilith says in an eerily calm tone of voice. "We don't want her passing out again. We're running low on medical supplies."

Castiel watches on in horror as the man grabs Dorothy by the arm and drags her to the front of the room. He wants to reach out, to save her, but his body is frozen stiff. He feels numb. All he can do is watch like everybody else as Dorothy is turned around, back facing the crowd, and forced onto her knees.

Lilith tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and tuts. "You brought this on yourself."

Dorothy hardly makes a noise as the first blow strikes her back. The man is using some kind of long, thin stick, but the sound of it slicing her tattered flesh is enough to make him wince. Nobody says a word as the next nine lashes follow suit, each one as sickening as the last. Castiel can feel tears stinging the backs of his eyes, but he refuses to cry; these animals don't deserve the satisfaction.

By the time they've finished, Dorothy is hunched over and trembling. The narrow tears in her oversized shirt reveal the deep gashes left behind, but neither Lilith - nor her attack dog - show an ounce of sympathy as they lift her onto her feet and take her away.

"We don't tolerate disrespect," Lilith says with a pointed look towards Castiel, discreetly wiping a smidgen of blood onto Dorothy's sleeve. "Take her back to her room."

Everyone is silent as Lilith's men haul Dorothy away, hardly breaking a sweat as they lift her up like a rag doll. The thick trail of blood left in their wake reminds Castiel of his mother, lying deathly still on the bathroom floor in a pool of crimson. He thinks back to the stain Michael left behind when Jo attacked him, to the scars still etched into his skin from Zachariah's belt, to the bandages wrapped around his palms, hiding the shameful cuts he gave himself only days ago… He's seen so much blood in his lifetime. _Too much_. He doesn't want to see any more of it; he's not sure he can stomach it any longer.

He keeps his eyes on Dorothy as they take her back down the corridor. Her head is hung low, arms limp and feet dragging across the floor. She still manages to glance over her shoulder though, giving him a weak smile and parting wink before she disappears into the darkness.

Castiel doesn't get a chance to question why she's acting so calm and collected, like she planned the whole thing; the session has already continued.

"Okay," Lilith says with a breezy smile. "Let's move on, shall we?"

* * *

Castiel feels like a sheep as he herded into the next room, thrown into an all-male group as the girls are taken elsewhere. Lilith (unfortunately) opts to stay with them, her bodyguards following close behind. She almost looks excited at the prospect of the next session, which only leaves him with a queasy feeling in his stomach. Judging by the terrified looks on everyone else's faces, whatever comes next must be pretty bad.

They're all handed a tiny, white pill on their way inside, forced to take it down with a glass of water before going any further. Castiel's tempted to hide it beneath his tongue, but the risk of getting caught is too high; after seeing what they did to Dorothy, he doesn't want to take any chances.

"Do we have any volunteers today?" Lilith asks with a hopeful lilt to her voice. "Wouldn't it be nice to show our newest member how things work around here?"

Nobody says a word.

"Oh, well. I suppose I'll just have to pick someone myself."

There's a cold suspense closing in on them as Lilith starts pacing up and down the crowd, eyes flitting between each boy as if she's picking the perfect apple in the supermarket. It makes him want to scream.

"Ah, yes," She suddenly sneers, leaning over a random boy in the front row. It's the guy he and Dorothy sat next to before. "Stand up, Aaron."

Castiel could cry just by looking at the pure fear in the boy's eyes, but drawing any unnecessary attention to himself would be pointless. He hates the control these people have over him; a skinny teenage boy against two full grown men is hardly a fair fight. Or maybe he's just scared. It's selfish, he knows, but after suffering years and years of abuse from his uncle, he's not exactly eager to receive another beating.

"Okay. If everyone's taken their medication and found a seat, we'll begin."

The rows of metal desks remind him of some kind of Victorian school. Only, they're not _desks_ , but bins. He's not sure what purpose they have, but it can't be anything pleasant.

"You can remove your clothing now."

Castiel's blood runs cold.

What kind of sick game is Lilith trying to play? Aaron can't be any older than sixteen, and yet he's being forced to strip in front of a room full of people. The beating he expected, but _this_? No. No, there's nothing justified in publicly humiliating a young boy. Castiel has half a mind to tackle Lilith to the ground, but just like before, he can't seem to move. He's frozen stiff, _helpless_. How can anyone approve of this? If he couldn't feel the sharp sting of his nails biting into his palms, he'd think he was having some horrible nightmare.

"Come on, Aaron. I don't want to make this any harder than it has to be."

There are tears in his eyes as he begins to strip, fingers shaking so badly he can hardly unbutton his shirt. There are scars similar to Dorothy's marring his shoulders. Castiel wonders how long he's been here, if his family even cares that their son is being beaten silly by a bunch of bigoted abusers… They probably don't. You can't be much of a caring person if you're willing to send your own child to a place like this.

He likes to think that if his mom knew where here is, she'd at least give a damn. But she's clinically insane, so what would it matter? This world has a cruel habit of ignoring those who aren't delightfully normal on the surface.

"What do you feel when you look at him in this way?" Lilith asks as Aaron tentatively steps out of his trousers. His knobbly knees are clapping together, legs practically vibrating with fear. "What kind of thoughts does this image rouse in your minds? Seeing this young boy so exposed like this."

Castiel goes to stand up - potential beatings be damned - but a sharp pain suddenly rings through his stomach, forcing him back down with a gasp. He feels like he's going to vomit at any second. His head is light, his jaw starting to tremble. This isn't _normal_. You don't turn sick like this out of nowhere. And the stuff Zachariah gave him earlier should've worn off by now. But then he remembers the pills they had to take before coming in, and it all makes sense.

He's been drugged.

"Look at him," Lilith hisses, waving a hand at Aaron's now naked figure standing at the front of the room. "This body is designed to attract females. None of you should feel anything but disgust right now. You should feel _sick_ to your stomachs."

Castiel sure feels sick, but it's got nothing to do with the sight of Aaron's bare chest (he won't even allow himself to look any further down; it wouldn't be fair on the boy).

Lilith actually believes that she can manipulate them into thinking that seeing a naked man is what's causing this sudden wave of nausea, as if the pills she made them take were completely ineffective. How stupid does she think they are? Is she under the illusion that being gay messes with your common sense? He can't believe this. He can't believe _any_ of it!

Someone two rows ahead suddenly lurches forward, retching into one of the metal bins just in time. At least that part makes sense now. It's so disgustingly planned out; they must do this kind of thing regularly.

"Well done, Cesar. That's the natural response."

The sound of more vomit spraying against the metal bins quickly fills the room. The stench hovers in the air like storm clouds, making Castiel gag with the effort not to do the same. He doesn't want Lilith thinking she's won, that she's somehow proven her point. He doesn't Aaron feeling responsible for making him sick. No one should have to stand there, completely vulnerable, and watch while everyone recoils in disgust. It's just not fair.

"Turn around," Lilith demands in a cold, unfeeling tone of voice. "Bend over, Aaron. Show them what they desire. What they _think_ they desire."

Castiel can't even bare to look as Aaron slowly starts to turn. He's whimpering softly, tears streaming down his blush-stained cheeks. It makes him seem even younger. Castiel doesn't want to imagine something like this happening to Anna - being stripped of her innocence in front of a group of strangers.

He wants to get up and do something, but his body is shaking with the urge to vomit. He's afraid he'll break down if he so much as swallows.

"It's unnatural," Lilith whispers beside him, like a devil on his shoulder. He's not sure when she came and crouched down next to him, but all eyes on the pair of them now. Aaron is still trembling at the front of the room, bent over and quietly weeping. Castiel hates how he's just been left like that, but at least the attention has finally been shifted away from his humiliation.

"It's not unnatural," He says, gritting his teeth. "You just don't understand it."

Lilith tuts. "Oh, I understand it, Castiel. It's a disease. An _illness_. It's curable, just like most things."

"Sexuality is not 'most things'."

"It's a choice, one you made for your own reasons at some point," Lilith smiles, thin-lipped, and places a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We can figure it out together. I can help you, Castiel. I _promise_."

Castiel shrugs her off. "There's nothing wrong with me."

"Deep down, you know that's not true."

"I'm in love," He spits, revelling in the look of pure rage that flashes across her face. "With another a boy. So don't you dare tell me that it's unnatural."

"You're confused."

"I'm really not."

Lilith clicks her tongue. "Stop holding back. Let it go, like everybody else."

"No," He can feel his insides twisting painfully, everything sloshing back and forth as he makes to leave. He gets halfway onto his feet before his knees buckle, body collapsing limply into his chair. "No, I… I won't do it."

"You need to. It's the only way to empty yourself of all those sinful desires, to have a fresh start."

Castiel glances at Aaron, still bent over for everyone to see. The very sight makes the urge to hurl even stronger. It sickens him how anyone can be so cruel. He's endured five years of nonstop abuse from Zachariah, but his brain still can't comprehend how monsters like this really exist.

"Do it," Lilith says with a growl. "Don't try to be the hero."

And with that, he gives in. He can't fight the drugs any more than the rest of them can. He's nothing special. His hands grasp the closet thing he can find - something cold and hard - and then he's being sick. It's not healthy how much he throws up, but the dizzy relief of letting go is enough to make his head spin.

His throat is even rawer than before, and there's a bitter taste in his mouth, but at least the twisting has stopped. At least he doesn't feel like his insides are being mushed together anymore. He could easily fall asleep here, arms draped lazily over the metal bin in front of him. But Lilith is still staring down at him, looking more triumphant than ever. How could he possibly rest?

"That's a normal response," She says with a sickly sweet smile. "It's your body's way of rejecting any aspects of attraction towards Aaron. Your body knows what your mind is too confused to understand."

Castiel scoffs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I was sick because you _drugged_ me, like everybody else in this room. It has nothing to do with Aaron. You're trying to manipulate us."

"I told you, Castiel. We don't tolerate disrespect."

"Then punish me!"

Lilith purses her lips, eyes glinting furiously. "I know how to really punish people like you."

"It's always the same; it always ends bloody."

"Not you. Not today, anyway."

Castiel frowns. "What do you mean?"

"You have no self-respect. You care more about those around you than yourself," A chilling smile takes over her face. "Which is why this will be so much worse."

Everything is silent, and then Lilith turns to her one of her men.

"Fifteen lashes ought to teach him a lesson, don't you think? We'll up it to twenty if he still won't behave."

Castiel doesn't understand, not until the man turns around and shoves Aaron onto the floor. The thin stick he used on Dorothy comes out again, still glistening with her blood. It leaves a brown stain on Aaron's pale skin as it strikes his back, the sounds of his cries slicing through the silence of the room.

"No!" Castiel tries to move forward, but Lilith is holding his arm. He's too weak - too woozy from the drugs - to put up much of a fight. "Don't punish him for something _I_ did!"

"But that's the whole point. Watching someone else suffer for your wrongdoings is the worst possible punishment."

"Please, stop… I promise I'll be good from now on!"

"He still has twelve lashes to go."

" _Please_."

Lilith tightens her grip on his arm, lips twitching as she looks down at him. "Hopefully this will teach you a lesson about respect. You don't want to end up like Dorothy. You'll only make this harder on yourself."

"J-Just stop. _Please_ , stop. He's just a kid!"

"What does it matter? He deserves this just as much as you do. Just as much as _any_ of you do."

Castiel flinches as the beating continues, a strangled noise escaping Aaron's mouth. It's a pain-mangled cry, like he's begging them to stop through the tears and blood and inconceivable agony… Castiel knows what if feels like, to be stripped naked and whipped like an old horse in the backyard. The sharp slap of the stick cutting through Aaron's flesh makes him want to vomit again. He could easily lean forward and empty himself all over again, but he wouldn't want to satisfy Lilith in that way. He can keep his mouth shut, be a good boy - for the sake of those around him - but he will _not_ be controlled by these people.

"That's enough," Lilith lifts her hand, quietly dismissing her men. "It's been a long morning. I think Castiel should return to his room for the rest of the day."

Aaron drops to the floor with a groan, blood pooling from the gashes on his back. Castiel can't even look him in the eye as Lilith ushers him out of the room with one of her guys. He can't handle this kind of guilt. His entire life, he's only cared about those around him; he's suffered years of abuse from his uncle to make thing easier on Anna. But now he's the reason some innocent boy is lying nearly unconscious on the cold ground.

"I'm sorry," He whispers as they take him away. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

The first thing he does when he gets back to his room is throw up again. He might not allow himself to be weak in front of Lilith, but keeping the drugs in his system by holding back wouldn't be smart. He just hopes that vomiting won't be such a common occurrence from now on. There's something about leaning over a dirty toilet bowl that makes this whole experience seem even worse.

"You okay in there?"

Castiel falls backwards, almost breaking his neck. He didn't expect to hear another voice; he thought that Dorothy would be in some kind of recovery ward after what happened to her.

"I'm fine," He calls back, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "Sorry, I didn't see you."

"Too busy trying not to spew all over the floor?"

"Pretty much."

He finds Dorothy curled up in a corner of the room, blood soaking her hands and hair covering her face. The sight of her just sitting there, looking so broken, brings tears to his eyes. He seems to be crying a lot lately. Maybe finally opening up to Dean has made him a more sensitive person. He's not sure if that's a good or a bad thing, but right now it doesn't really matter. He's got a friend to look after.

"Those assholes… They didn't even bother to clean you up."

"They don't care about that sort of thing."

Castiel tries to swallow down the lump in his throat, but it feels like someone's stuffed a wad of cotton wool down there. He's never felt so helpless before in his life.

"Just hang on," He says with a smile, the kind reserved for trying to make people feel just a little bit better. "I'll get you something."

There's no cloths or towels in the bathroom, but there is a small bucket and plenty of toilet paper. It's enough to clean off the drying blood flaking beneath her fingernails. He doesn't know what to do with the cuts on her back, but he'll figure it out. He's had plenty of experience with treating wounds like this before.

"Hold still," He whispers, gently scrubbing along her trembling fingers. Dorothy may seem like a strong person on the outside, but Castiel can tell that she's internally breaking down. He hates the way these places stomp on so many innocent people, even free-spirited ones like Dorothy. If they can get to _her_ like this, what hope does a meek coward like himself have?

"Who did she pick on today?"

"Hm?"

"Lilith. Who did she choose to strip down this time?"

Castiel clears his throat, the memory of Aaron bent over and sobbing so vivid in his mind. He suspected that things like that happen often, but Dorothy makes it seem like it happens every _day_.

"It was Aaron," He sniffs. "She, um… Sh-She made him stand in front of everyone, and… I think I made it worse, Dorothy."

"You disrespected her?"

"I called her out on the pills, excused her of trying to manipulate us."

Dorothy huffs a humourless laugh. "Well, you're not wrong. You can't blame yourself for what happened, Castiel."

"But I _did_ make it worse. I wouldn't shut my mouth, and Aaron got punished for it."

"That's just Lilith. She's twisted like that."

"She punished _you_ this morning, not anyone else."

"That's because I have no friends here. She thinks I don't care what happens to other people. That's my superpower."

Castiel frowns. "Did you know what was going to happen to you?"

"Of course."

"Then why did you say those things?"

Dorothy sighs, a lock of dark hair sticking to the corner of her mouth. Her hands are pretty much clean now, but there's some blood on her cheek, and God only knows how badly they messed up her back. Castiel will spend all night cleaning her up if that's what he has to do, but she should really get some professional help. Cuts like this could get so easily infected, especially when they're living in a dirty little room filled with cobwebs and mud.

"I'd rather be beaten bloody than play along with this game," She explains with a watery smile. "I'll take my punishment - I'll get whipped every day until I die if that's what it takes - but I won't let her make me feel ashamed for being who I am."

Castiel nods. He can understand that, even if he's not brave enough to do it himself.

"Just don't let them get to you."

"I'll try."

"Seriously, Castiel. That's how they win… They make you think it's your fault, and then you starting hating yourself after a while. Please don't let that happen to you."

All he can do is smile and nod again. How is he supposed to tell her that he already hates himself, that some screwed up part of his brain actually believes some of things that Lilith has been saying? How can he tell her how scared he is, or how he'd rather lie down and surrender than fight sometimes? It's just selfish to dump all your fears and anxieties onto someone who's literally sitting in a pool of their own blood.

"I won't let it happen," He says, blinking back tears. "I promise."

So if he spends the entire night staring at the walls, burrowing his face into Dean's stupid Pink Floyd shirt to make it feel like he's here, then he doesn't mention it to Dorothy. If he's going to get through this, he's going to have to be strong. He'll keep his head down, keep his emotions to himself, and everything will be okay. Dean and Luke will find him eventually. They'll save him - they'll save _everyone_. He just has to keep clinging onto that small flicker of light at the end of the tunnel. For the sake of his sanity, he _has_ to have hope.


	23. Chapter 23

**This chapter is late AGAIN... I'm so sorry. This one was pretty difficult to write. Trigger warnings for violence and themes of non-con. Please leave a review if you can! Thank you so much for reading**

* * *

The next few days blur together. Castiel's not entirely sure how long it's been (maybe a week or so?) but everything's starting to feel numb, like he doesn't have a real sense of what's going on. Every day he wakes up weaker - his clothes a little dirtier, his stomach shrinking by the hour. The light at the end of the tunnel seems to be getting dimmer and dimmer, practically non-existent at this point. Castiel doesn't know what he'll do once it's gone out for good. He doesn't want to be surrounded by darkness again, with every essence of hope and fight completely drained from his system. He needs to keep believing that this will all be over eventually, but as the beatings keep coming, and the days keep passing, he's starting to wonder if escape is nothing more than a fantasy. Maybe no one saw the car leaving. Maybe no one saw the licence plate. Maybe they think he's dead and stopped looking a long time ago.

Dorothy isn't getting any better either. She still insists on provoking Lilith every morning before sessions, just pushing and pushing until they beat her down again. How she copes, he has no idea. With every new punishment, her energy seems to fade away a little more. It's like she's giving up. Castiel can't bear seeing her so fragile and empty, sitting in the corner of their room with blood soaking through her clothes. But no matter what he says, she refuses to bite the bullet and follow the rules.

He makes sure to clean her wounds every night though, just to make sure they don't get infected. Dorothy may have stopped caring about herself, but hell if he's going to sit by and let her suffer more than she has to. He's more than happy to spend the night by her side, keeping pressure on her wounds and calming her nightmares. It's not as if he gets any sleep in this place anyway.

Lilith doesn't come to their room in the mornings anymore, but Castiel knows the routine now. Someone comes by and opens the door, brings them some breakfast, and then they're taken to the rest of the group. Castiel hates the sessions just as much as Dorothy does, but one of them needs to keep themselves relatively healthy; there's no sense in them both being whipped on a daily basis. Staying strong is essential. It's a responsibility he's familiar with at least, what with looking after Anna for so many years. It's kind of nice getting to feel like a big brother again, even if it's under such terrible circumstances. He's just glad he's not alone in this.

The days pass by like clockwork. He wakes up (which basically equates to opening his eyes and moving around), checks Dorothy's wounds, eats breakfast, attends morning sessions, watches that stupid video, throws up a few times, and eventually goes back to his room. It's a vicious cycle, but what choice does he have? There's no room to complain; he's too busy keeping Dorothy alive and staying in Lilith's good books.

He still can't look Aaron in the eye, despite how cowardly it makes him feel to avoid the young boy's gaze. His scars are hidden beneath his clothes, but there's a tiredness to him now, an air of surrender in the way he never looks up from the ground as he drags himself through the group. It's killing Castiel to know that it's his fault, but constantly blaming himself isn't going to do either of them any favours. He's trying to take Dean's advice - to stop carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders - but he can't seem to let things go. Perhaps it's the brotherly side to him, always wanting to lend a helping hand to those in need. If only being helpful didn't earn you fifteen lashes and an empty stomach as punishment in this hell hole.

Dorothy was too weak to get out of bed this morning. The guards didn't push her, didn't even ask twice before hauling Castiel out into the corridor alone. He's glad she'll get the entire day to rest without any further beatings, but that still doesn't stop him from worrying. It's so unlike Dorothy, letting her defences slip and showing the enemy just how much she's struggling. He hates seeing her like this.

Without Dorothy by his side, watching that stupid straight propaganda video feels twice as hard. He's utterly alone as he's dragged into the next room with the rest of the boys, a cup of water shoved into his hands to swallow down his daily pill on the way inside. There's an evil glint in Lilith's eye as she watches him walk past (she always has an evil glint in her eye, but today it feels personal). He can't seem to hold back the impending wave of paranoia crashing over him, engulfing what little courage he had to begin with. Something bad is about to happen. This place is full of bad things, but there's this creeping fear in the pit of his stomach, warning him that whatever comes next will haunt him for years to come.

"Castiel," Lilith barks over the quiet room, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Care to join me up front?"

All of a sudden, he can't breathe. There's a pounding in his head that seems to vibrate through his entire body, turning his legs into a shaking mess of absolute dread. If he stands up now, he'll either collapse or vomit, and he's really not in the mood to suffer the consequences of that. And even if he _could_ make it to the front of the room without being struck by bolts of anxiety, he knows what Lilith will do to him. It's what she does to everyone who's asked to stand before the group during sessions like this. It's what happened to Aaron.

"Castiel," She repeats with a terseness to her voice. "Do I have to bring you up here myself, or do you think you can make it alright?"

He's well aware that all eyes on him now. It's probably just nerves, but the drugs seem to be kicking in twice as fast today as well. He can already feel the familiar churning in his stomach, the heat crawling up his throat and sitting there like a hot lump of coal. If he doesn't act quickly, Lilith will punish him doubly for disobeying orders and making a mess on the floor. He has no choice but to move.

Heading to the front of the room is akin to walking on two strands of spaghetti. There are looks of shame, guilt and remorse all cast his way, and for some reason that just makes it worse. Everybody knows what's coming; he's never been on the receiving end of this twisted act before, but now he understands the horror involved in willingly marching yourself to humiliation. His palms are starting to sweat through his bandages, freshly muddied with blood after last night's digging. The sting of his wounds, paired with the clenching of his stomach, makes him want to turn and flee. But why should he deserve that kind of escape? He's watched several innocent boys endure this torture over the past few days. Now it's _his_ turn to face the music.

"You can now strip," Lilith coldly commands as he stands beside her.

Castiel hesitates for a moment, fingers brushing against the stretched material of Dean's Pink Floyd Shirt. He doesn't want to part with the only thing that makes him feel close to his boyfriend, but it will only be for a few minutes. He can manage that, even when the whiff of his smoky scent - woodchips and gasoline - tickles his nostrils and makes him want to cry. _It's only for a few minutes._

The shirt silently hits the floor, followed by his boxers and sweats. Cold air dances along his bare skin, but the heat of a dozen pairs of eyes is enough to spark an angry blush across his shoulders. No one other than Dean has ever seen him so exposed like this before. The embarrassment is tangible, practically suffocating him with its invisible embrace. He just wants to melt into a puddle, slip between the floor boards and sink into the earth. Anything to make this nightmare end.

"Ugh," Lilith grimaces, toeing Dean's shirt with a look of disgust. "Your clothes are filthy, Castiel."

She's right to be fair; that shirt hasn't been washed since he arrived. The front is streaked with Dorothy's blood, tears and vomit. So many nights of holding her broken body has made sure of that.

"I'll have to get this washed as soon as possible."

Castiel whips around, his blood turning cold. He feels like he's going to faint.

"No. N-No, you can't do that."

Lilith scoffs. "Excuse me? You do realize I _run_ this place, right?"

"You _cannot_ wash that shirt! I'm begging you, _please_."

"And why not?"

"Because -" He stops himself before the words can come out. If Lilith knew the truth, she'd burn it right in front of him. "Because I… I don't have another shirt."

"You'll take a spare."

"No!"

Something flashes in Lilith's eyes - something dark and dangerous.

"You will _not_ speak to me like that," She growls, slowly moving closer to Castiel until their faces are mere inches apart. "You know how I feel about disrespect. You've _seen_ how I deal with it. Why on earth would you want to experience that for yourself?"

Castiel clenches his fists, sucks in a breath. He knows that what he's about to do is ridiculous, but he can't lose that shirt. Washing away Dean's scent would be like wiping away his memory, and Castiel's not sure he could survive in this place without those memories to hold onto. A hundred lashes couldn't convince him to sacrifice that small glimmer of hope from his life.

"Give me back my shirt," He says, voice cracking with fear. "I _need_ it."

Lilith narrows her eyes, lips pursed and jaw ticking with anger. Her stare is icy cold as she bends down to pick up the shirt, handing it wordlessly over to one of her men.

"You know I can't stand for this behaviour."

Castiel swallows thickly. "Why are you doing this?"

"That shirt is filthy."

"I don't care."

"Well, we can't have you running around like a tramp. There are certain standards you need to meet."

Castiel sneers. "But whipping children somehow meets your standards?!"

"How _dare_ you -"

"What? Not fond of the truth?"

"That's it," Lilith growls, snapping her fingers impatiently. "I think Castiel needs a little reminder of how we run things here. Twenty lashes should do the trick."

Time seems to slow down as one of the guards moves towards him, gigantic figure looming over his head with a shark-like grin. The sound of vomit hitting the sides of the bins quickly fills the room, the sharp stench making him gag. There are tears in his eyes as he looks out across the group, at all the pale faces etched with pity. For some reason, he finds himself searching for Aaron amongst the crowd. A part of him wants to see the satisfaction gleaming in his gaze; he only deserves the same punishment he inflicted on _him_ after all.

But when he finally seeks out those big brown eyes, he doesn't see hatred or spite in them. He just sees a scared little boy throwing up his guts in a metal bin, just like the rest of them.

The next thing he knows, he's being shoved onto his knees by a pair of rough hands. He doesn't get a chance to catch his bearings before the first lash strikes his flesh, white hot pain searing through his body. He lets out a grunt through clenched teeth, trying to mask how much it really hurts by closing his eyes against the world. He can't bear to see the twisted pleasure on Lilith's face as he takes his next beating.

Every lash seems to burn a little more, melting away at the existing scars on his back. He counts seven before the pain becomes too much, and everything else turns to static. His cheek is pressed against the cold ground, vomit dribbling down his chin. There's a foot being repeatedly plunged into his stomach now, but it feels too far away for him to really care. He's staring at a spot of darkened wood on the floorboards, imaging his own blood seeping into a similar stain that will last here forever. Maybe Dean will get a call from the police one day, explaining how they found traces of his DNA splattered all over the building.

The distant sound of Lilith's voice lures him into sleep. He wants to escape the pain, to hide in a place of darkness until it's all over. In the last few seconds before he drifts off, he reaches out for Dean's shirt, desperately seeking one last whiff of woodchips and gasoline. But it's too late. He's too far gone, and all his fingers curl around is empty air. He's never felt so alone as one final kick chases him into the abyss of endless sleep…

* * *

When he finally comes around, he's back in his room, curled up in bed with Dorothy's fingers running through his hair. For a brief moment, his mind seems to forget that he just got beat to the point of unconsciousness, but then the pain and sickness comes flooding back all at once. He doesn't move though, just whimpers softly and slowly cracks open his eyes.

"Hey," Dorothy smiles down at him. "They did quite a number on you, huh?"

Castiel groans. "I was stupid."

"You stood up to her."

"Exactly."

"What the hell did you do to piss her off?"

"She took my shirt," He sniffs, glancing down at his bare chest. "It was Dean's. It… It _smelt_ like him."

Dorothy sighs. "It's okay, Castiel. Just take a deep breath."

"I _need_ that shirt, Dorothy."

"No, you don't."

"I do!"

"You think you need it because you miss him, but that's it. You can't depend on a shirt, Castiel. You can get through this without it, I _promise_ you."

Castiel blinks back tears and tries to breath, but the air feels dusty and raw against his throat. It takes every ounce of self-control to keep himself calm, to fight back the anxiety crawling like ants over his skin. He focusses on the warmth of Dorothy's thigh against his cheek, and the lingering scent of Dean still clinging to his body from wearing that shirt for so long. It's such a tiring process, trying not to crumble under the pressure of Lilith's relentless abuse. He thought that Zachariah was bad, but this woman is a demon in disguise.

"I miss him, Dorothy. _God_ , I miss him so much…"

"I know you do."

"I just… I-I don't understand what's wrong with that, with _loving_ him."

"There's nothing wrong with it."

Castiel closes his eyes, thinks back to the time he and Dean snuck away from Opal Grove for the day. The tears spill over his cheeks as he remembers their date with such clarity, back when everything was near perfect.

"I was going to marry him," He says, only slightly surprised by his own declaration. "He was the one, Dorothy. I could feel it with everything I had… W-We were going to get married and buy a house and have _children_. He was my future, and now he's gone!"

"No, he's not. You just have to fight for a little longer, until he can come rescue us."

Castiel scoffs. "I thought you said that was never going to happen."

"Well, I could be wrong."

"You're just trying to make me feel better."

"Is that a crime?"

"No," He sighs, looking up at Dorothy with a smile. "Thank you for being here, I just… I don't know what to think anymore."

"Just stay positive."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

Dorothy shifts her legs, gently moving him into an upright position. He's again struck with how much she reminds him of Jo, so beautifully strong and feisty. He misses his friends fiercely, but at least he has Dorothy here. He couldn't ask for a better person to share this pain with.

"Her name was Gilda," Dorothy says, smiling down at her hands. "The girl I was messaging."

Castiel is thankful for the change in subject, if only to distract himself from the emptiness slowly eating away at him, engulfing every last shred of hope inside of him.

"I only knew her for a few weeks, but… Maybe we could have been something more, you know? I'll never get to figure that out for myself."

"Did you like her?"

"She was sweet. A little dipsy, but hot as hell."

Castiel splutters a laugh. "It's nice to see that your priorities are in the right place."

"Oh, yeah? You telling me your boyfriend isn't attractive?"

"I'm not saying that," Castiel blushes, knowing too well that Dean is above average in the looks department. "He's the most gorgeous boy I've ever seen, but... I don't know. I guess I just love him for more than that."

"Tell me."

Castiel side-glances Dorothy, not sure if she's genuinely curious or just trying to cheer him up. Either way, she's watching him expectantly, waiting for some big story. Maybe they both just need to think back to the happy times for a moment - something light to drive out the darkness.

"When I first met him, he seemed kind of grumpy. But he had these _eyes_ that just… they were so green, I couldn't stop looking at them. And I loved his freckles," Castiel smiles gently, remembering how he used to trace the constellations arching over Dean's nose. "We starting dating almost immediately, which I guess sounds pretty odd, but… Well, it just felt right. It was like we knew we were supposed to be together, so why wait?"

Dorothy tucks her knees under her chin, looking very much like a child at story time.

"We snuck around for a long time. His mom was my counsellor, and it would've ruined everything if it came out. But then people starting getting suspicious, so we just… told them."

"What did they say?"

"They were surprisingly okay with it. There were a few rules put in place; I had to switch counsellors. But everything was fine. _Great_ , actually. I even spent Christmas with them. They were the first normal, _loving_ family I'd ever been around. It was nice."

Dorothy hums. "What did he get you for Christmas?"

"A fish. It's a bit of an inside joke. We always said that if we ever bought a house together, we'd buy a fish and call it something ridiculous."

"What, like 'Bubbles'?"

Castiel chuckles. "Exactly like that, actually."

"So you two are the real deal?"

"We love each other, if that's what you mean. We would've stayed together."

"How do you know?"

"I didn't believe it myself for ages, but Dean somehow convinced me. He said he'd never leave," Castiel swallows roughly, tears still streaming silently down his face. "He really wanted us to work. He's the first person who actually _chose_ me, even when he realized how messed up I am."

"You really love him, huh?"

"With all my heart," He says, almost laughing at the image of Dean blushing and telling him to 'stop with the chick-flick moments' for being so sappy. "I just wish I could hear his voice one last time."

Dorothy suddenly gets to her feet, wincing at the fresh bruises from yesterday morning.

"Follow me," She grins, grabbing his arm. "I've got a plan."

Castiel doesn't question it, just follows her carefully into the bathroom. He probably looks like an old man, hobbling about like this, but he can't risk moving too quickly; the last thing he wants to do is deepen the cuts on his back.

"Why are we in the bathroom again?"

"Just shut up and look," Dorothy rolls her eyes, turning his head towards the closet opposite the toilet. "I've got an escape hatch."

"The… closet?"

"While you've been dillydallying with Lilith and her pals all day, _I've_ been digging a hole."

Castiel huffs a laugh. "Are you trying to be funny?"

"No, I'm being serious."

And then, without further explanation, she opens the closet door. It's filled with old clothes and a couple of blankets hanging from a rack, but when Dorothy moves the junk aside, Castiel can see what she's talking about. The panels at the back of the closet are flimsy and falling apart, and the wall behind them is in a similar condition. The plasterboard is crumbling away, peeking out into a dark room of some sorts. With enough time and effort, they could easily break through it and escape.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me about this?"

"I didn't want to get your hopes up," She shrugs. "I have no idea where it leads."

"Well, it gets us out of this room for a start."

Dorothy places a hand on his shoulder, fixing him with a serious look. "We can get out of this room, but that's it. I don't even know where the main exit is. I just know how to find Lilith's office."

"Why would we want to get there?"

"Because she has a phone."

Castiel freezes. "You mean… You mean we could call for help?"

"Essentially, yeah. We wouldn't have a lot of time, but -"

"I could call Dean?"

Dorothy nods her head. "You could call Dean."

Castiel's thoughts begin to race. He'd just about given up hope of ever speaking to Dean again, but now there's this opportunity dangling in front of him. It's risky for sure, but what if they could pull it off? Just a few minutes of talking to Dean could fuel his fight again, keep him from backing down for good.

"You don't know where this leads?"

"I'm pretty sure it'll take us to the boiler room or something, but we can find our way from there."

"What if we get caught?"

Dorothy sighs. "If we get caught, then God save us both."

"What do you think Lilith would do to us?"

"We'd get more than a few lashes, lemme yell you."

Castiel considers this for a moment, weighing the odds in his head. If Lilith caught them sneaking around, she'd probably starve and beat them close to death… But if they actually pulled it off? He could speak to Dean again, even call for help. This phone call could be the thing that saves them! Isn't that worth the risk of facing Lilith's fury, no matter how intense it may be?

"Okay," He says, licking his lips. "Okay, yeah. Let's do this. _Today_."

Dorothy smirks. "Really?"

"Who knows when we'll next be together? It's too dangerous to do it after hours."

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"We could die in this godforsaken place, Dorothy. Why not try and escape while we still can?"

A respectful little glint twinkles in her eye, lips tugging into a smile as grabs the nearest jacket from the closet and throws it at Castiel's chest.

"First things first: you better put some clothes on."

Castiel slips into a pair of baggy jeans and a flannel shirt, the colour of dusty corn. The jacket Dorothy gave him is short in the sleeves, but the inside material is soft and warm. It might not be much, but the small act of changing into something relatively clean is kind of liberating. He almost forgets that he's being held here against his own will for a second, but then Dorothy is pounding her fists against the wall and everything comes back to him.

"Come on," She says, grinning over her shoulder. "You're gonna hear Dean's voice again."

* * *

With matching bruises slowing them down, sneaking through the building proves to be rather difficult. Dorothy keeps swaying into his side, leaning on his shoulder for support, and Castiel is trying his best not to throw up. It's a miracle they even make it to Lilith's office without them both keeling over.

"Look. There it is," Dorothy hisses, nodding her head at the small room across the corridor, the word 'private' hanging in brass letters above the door. "I think someone's inside."

Sure enough, a shadow passes over the letterbox window at the top. There's the muffled sound of someone speaking - probably on the phone - and then a grunt before the door starts to open. Lilith comes storming out with a glare, brushing down her outfit as she marches around the corner. She seems like any other business woman attending to petty matters. It's scary how such monsters can blend into the crowd.

"Let's go."

Castiel gulps. "Are you sure? Maybe we should wait -"

"If we wait any longer, we'll miss our chance."

Dorothy keeps her eyes fixed on his until he finally relents. He knows she's right; Lilith could come back at any moment, so this could be the only opportunity they have. Escaping this place is worth the risk.

"Okay. After you."

Staying low, they both scuttle into the office and push the door almost closed. The phone is sitting on a desk, surrounded by papers - in plain sight for anyone to find. Castiel can't help but worry that it all seems a little too good to be true, but Dorothy is already shoving him towards the phone before he gets the chance to question it. It's not like they have all day to be fair.

"Do you know your boyfriend's number?"

Castiel has to think for a moment, but it soon comes rushing back. He's always been the kind of person to memorize numbers off by heart.

"Maybe I should call the police."

"Don't be stupid," Dorothy mutters, turning her back on him to keep watch. "The police wouldn't have enough time to track the call, and we have no way of helping them find us. At least talking to Dean will give you an extra boost to get through this.

"But what if -"

"Do you want to hear his voice again or not?"

Castiel swallows thickly, staring at the back of Dorothy's head until the tears stop blurring his vision.

"I'll call him."

"Be snappy about it."

He can barely pick up the phone, his hands are shaking so much. His fingers feel twice as big as he punches in the number, every digit deepening the pit of fear in his stomach. What if Dean doesn't answer? What if he got the number wrong? What if he doesn't even care?

The receiver is cold and hard against his cheek. He tries to curl himself around the phone, keep the conversation as private as possible, but the dankness of the room firmly reminds him of his current situation. Nothing - not even the sweet normalcy of making a phone call - can change this twisted reality of his. He's a seventeen year old boy hiding away in a crazy woman's office, panicking over something as simple as calling his boyfriend. How the hell did this happen to him?

"Pick up," He prays into the phone, fingers twisting the cord anxiously. " _Please_ , pick up."

"Hello?"

Everything grinds to a halt at the sound of that voice.

"Dean? Dean, it's me!"

There's a long, agonising stretch of silence, and Castiel's half convinced that Dean has hung up on him. But then a shaky breath crackles down the line, followed by a strangled gasp of a noise.

"C-Cas?"

His heart clenches at the break in his voice. If it were physically possible, he'd reach through the phone and kiss him furiously. Just hearing him speak for the first time in almost two weeks has reminded him how badly he's missed him, how much he wants to hold him and never let go.

"Yeah, it's me. It's me, Dean. I'm here."

"Oh, thank god," Dean takes a shuddered breath, his voice thick with tears. "I-I didn't… I thought you might… Oh, fuck, Cas, I thought -"

"I know," He laughs despite the tears stinging his eyes. "It's okay. _I'm_ okay."

"Where are you?!"

"I-I'm not sure. It's some kind of _camp_ … There are more kids here. They're all gay, Dean."

"You mean it's like a prison?"

Castiel bites back a sob, wounds burning at the memory of standing in front of the crowd completely naked. He wants to throw up, to curl up and forget everything. This place is worse than a prison. It's _hell_.

"I… I lost your shirt," He says for some reason, shoulders starting to shake with uncontrollable tears. "I'm sorry, Dean. I-I didn't mean to."

"Hey, hey, hey. I don't give a crap about the shirt, Cas!"

"I'm so sorry."

"Listen to me, baby. _I don't care_."

"I'm really scared, Dean."

"Shh… It's gonna be okay. I'm gonna find you, baby. I'm gonna save you."

"I don't know where I am. They won't tell us."

"What can you see?"

Castiel looks around him, at the papers on the desk and the countless folders shoved between the drawers. It's all mindless nonsense to him; he can't make sense of it. Why would a place like this even need paperwork? Are all the victims being kept here nothing more than names on a file to Lilith? Do they really mean that little to her, just more disgusting fags to magically cure for cash?

"I-I don't know. I can't see anything!"

"It's okay," Dean reassures him, voice gentle and warm against his ear. "Anything you can find, Cas. A name, a number…"

"The owner's called Lilith, but I don't know her surname."

"Okay. Okay, that's good."

Castiel glances at Dorothy, who's still staring through the gap in the door. How can she be so calm? How can _Dean_ be so calm? Here he is, close to snapping in two, and they're both acting so cool and rational. He wishes he could get a hold of himself as well, but he can't seem to keep down the rising panic inside of him. He feels like he's close to bursting with all this fear swirling in his gut. He can't throw up anymore; there's nothing left _to_ throw up. This sense of complete and utter emptiness is terrifying.

"Dean," He whimpers, leaning against the desk to keep himself steady. "I think… I think I'm going to die."

"Don't say that."

"You don't know what they're like," He sobs. "Dean, they… th-they do stuff to us. _Make_ us do things… I-I'm bleeding a lot. They hurt me. I don't know if I can… I-I don't know…"

"You listen here, okay? You're _not_ gonna die. I won't let that happen."

"But what -"

" _No_ ," Dean sniffs, his voice trembling. "I won't lose you. You've just gotta fight for a little longer, okay? I'm gonna find you, baby. I _promise_."

Castiel lifts his eyes to the ceiling, willing the tears to stop for just _one_ second.

"I love you, Dean. You know that, right?"

More silence. More tears.

"No. No, you don't get to say that like it's a _goodbye_ or somethin'."

"I just wanted you to know…"

"I already _know_."

"Dean -"

"You're not gonna die, alright?! So get that outta your head _right_ fuckin' now, okay?! I don't wanna hear it."

Castiel smiles weakly. "Okay."

"You better wrap things up," Dorothy whispers. "We need to move."

"Who was that?"

"Dorothy," He says, clearing his throat. "She's my cellmate."

"Your _cell_ mate?!"

"Things are pretty bad here."

Dean swallows roughly. "Okay. Okay, just… Are you sure you can't see anything around you?"

"What about my uncle?"

"We can't find him. He dumped his car in the middle of nowhere… We've been searchin' all week, but…"

Castiel closes his eyes for a moment, then starts to search for some kind of hint. All the papers are pretty much identical besides the names and information on the front. Every envelope is stamped, but the address is blocked out with pen. He frantically shoves the papers aside, hands scrambling across the desk for something - _anything_ \- to suggest where they might be. And then his eyes land on a name.

"Lilith White," He murmurs, holding the small business card close to his face. "That's her name, Dean. She's called Lilith White."

"Is there anything else?"

"No. There's no number or address… It's just _blank_."

Dorothy suddenly curses, turning sharply away from the door. "We need to go _now_."

"But -"

"I'm sorry, Castiel. We _need_ to leave."

"What's going on?" Dean pleads. "Hey, what's happenin'?!"

"Nothing, I just… I need to go."

"Are you okay?!"

"I'm fine!"

"You don't _sound_ fine!"

" _Dean._ Just trust me. You need to start asking around, see if anyone knows a Lilith White. Try and find my aunt Naomi! She has Anna."

"But, Cas -"

"I'll be fine, okay? Just… Just _hurry._ "

Dean sniffs again, his voice hoarse as he whispers down the phone. "You better be fine… We need to get you home so I can marry your sorry ass, okay?"

Castiel laughs. "You know I'm not eighteen, right?"

"Doesn't mean I can't propose."

"You're an idiot."

"I love you," Dean breathes. "I mean that, Cas. Lovin' you, it's… it's all I know right now."

Castiel has to turn away as another sob racks his body; he doesn't want Dean hearing him like this.

"I know you do. And I love you too… With everything I have."

"So you'll stay safe?"

"I'll do my best."

"Seriously, Cas. Don't do anythin' stupid. Don't try 'n play the hero."

"I promise."

"Crap," Dorothy hisses, slamming her back up against the door. "It's too late. We've got company."

Castiel takes a deep breath, preparing himself for what's about to come. If this is the last conversation he ever has with Dean, he wants to end it properly. He wants him to know how much he means to him, how much he's changed his view of the world. Without Dean, he might have died with bitterness in his heart. Now thanks to him, he can leave this place knowing there's some good out there… That there's _love_.

"I want you to do something for me," He says, trying to keep his voice even. "If I… I-If something happens to me… I don't want you to put your life on hold."

"Cas -"

"No, Dean. I'm serious. If I don't… I-I want you to know it's okay. For you to move on, I mean. I'll understand."

Dean huffs. "You have no idea, do you? This is it for me, Cas. _You're_ it."

"But what if I can't -"

"You're gonna make it, and we're gonna be happy."

Castiel squeezes his eyes shut, hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I love you. I love you so much."

"Don't leave me just yet!"

"I have to, Dean."

"Cas, wait -"

"I love you," He cries, not even trying to hide the shaking in his voice anymore. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I love you so much… But I've got to go."

"Cas -"

"Goodbye, Dean."

As soon as he hangs up the phone, Lilith comes barging in, sending Dorothy's limp body flying across the room.

"What the _hell_ is going on in here?!"

Castiel scrubs a hand over his face and stands, legs barely strong enough to hold him up.

"It was my idea," He lies. "Don't punish her. It was all me."

Lilith narrows her eyes, flitting her gaze between him and Dorothy. Her whole body is shaking with rage, and Castiel could swear there are literal flames burning behind that vicious glare of hers. She doesn't even hesitate before turning around and kicking Dorothy in the stomach. The yelp that escapes her lips is something that will stay with him forever - the sound of someone's pain being squeezed out of them, too terrible to contain. He can already feel the bile rising in his throat.

"No! Wait -"

"I'm not an idiot, Castiel. You think I don't know who's really behind this?!"

Dorothy cries as Lilith kicks her again, curling into a ball to try and defend herself. It's useless though. Lilith pries her arms open with ease, throwing her onto her back and standing over her body. Castiel can actually hear the slap that hits Dorothy's cheek, leaving a burning print glowing on her skin.

"Stop!" He begs her. "Please, just stop! Punish _me_!"

Lilith doesn't answer him, simply grabs Dorothy by the collar of her shirt and hauls her forward. The sound of her bones crunching against Lilith's fist makes him want to vomit. Blood drips in thick ropes from her nose, painting her face a dark crimson - the same colour he once found his own mother lying in. It gurgles in her mouth, mixing with the tears and sweat beading on her chin. She can hardly lift her arms in defence. She's like a lump of meat for Lilith to whip and beat as she pleases.

Her one eye is glued shut with blood, the other wide with fear, and her lips keeping mouthing silent words between each punch. Castiel wishes he knew what she was trying to say… But on the other hand, he's almost glad he doesn't have to hear it. God knows what kind of awful things a person utters when they're being beaten half to death.

When she's finally done torturing her, Lilith kicks Dorothy's body aside like a piece of trash. There's blood specking her porcelain skin, curling into brown strands in her hair. Castiel has never seen anything like it, never witnessed such evil in one person before. Even when his uncle was done with him, there'd be a flicker of something close to guilt in his expression… But Lilith is cold. _Unfeeling_.

"Get her out of my sight," She instructs her men, eyes slowly shifting to Castiel. "And _you_ … The only reason you're not in the same state is because your uncle paid me extra. Now _leave_!"

Castiel doesn't need to be told twice. He scurries after Dorothy, discreetly taking her hand as she's dragged away by Lilith's men. She groans and whimpers and cries with every step. Castiel has never seen her like this before, not after the countless beatings she's received here. Dorothy has always been the strong one, capable of taking blow after blow without losing her fight. But now she looks so _broken_. Castiel has no idea if he can nurse her back to health this time, certainly not by himself. She needs to get to a hospital as soon as possible.

"She's really hurt," He tries telling the guards, but their faces remain as still and emotionless as always. "Don't you have any compassion?! She needs to get help!"

Neither of the men say a word as they practically throw Dorothy back into their room. Castiel rushes to her side, ignoring the clunk of the lock sliding into place. Lilith didn't even ask how they got out, which means she doesn't care. She's in complete control here; the only escape is from the outside.

"Are you okay?" He murmurs softly, wincing at his own question. Of course she's not okay, but what else to you say in this kind of situation? "Just hang on. I'll go get something to clean you up with -"

"No," Dorothy groans. "I don't want… Can you just hold me? Please."

Castiel swallows thickly. He knows her wounds need to be cleaned, but maybe he can do that once she's fallen asleep. She's clearly in shock right now. All he can do is shrug off the spare jacket from the closet and drape it over her shoulders, wrapping it tightly around her body to stem the bleeding. He can't even see the cuts on her face; she's caked so thickly in blood, he couldn't possibly figure out where it's coming from.

"Just let me put pressure on that -"

"I said _no_ ," She cries, her voice thick with blood and tears. "Just stay with me until I fall asleep… Please, Castiel. I don't want to be alone."

Castiel pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "Okay. But I need to clean these wounds."

"Let them bleed."

"You don't mean that."

"I do," She croaks, fresh blood dribbling from her mouth. "I'm just so tired…"

Castiel picks her up gently and guides her to the bed, resting her head against his shoulder as he curls his arm around her waist. He's always been grateful that he was the only one that had to suffer his uncle's abuses, that he never had to see Anna in such pain… But now he knows what it feels like to see someone you care about so close to giving up. He'd give anything to trade places with Dorothy right now, to spare her the agony she must be feeling - the agony she'll be feeling for weeks to come. But he can't, so all he can do is watch. He's not sure which punishment is worse.

"Just rest," He whispers against her temple, brushing a sticky strand of hair away from her face. "I'll be right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

And so they stay like that - Castiel propped up against the headboard, and Dorothy leaning into his side. It's not until Dorothy finally drifts off that he gently wriggles out of her grip, fetching some water to clean her up with. He spends the best part of an hour soaking up the blood - using old t-shirts from the closet as bandages - and then another two making sure she's comfortable before allowing himself to sleep. It doesn't come easy, but the darkness eventually falls like a blanket over his mind, bringing with it a sweet silence he can't possibly refuse.


	24. Chapter 24

**Apologies for the lateness of this chapter! I've had a very busy weak. Plus, I haven't had time to proof-read yet, so there may be some mistakes. Trigger warnings for abuse, homophobia, non-con and generally upsetting scenes. Please leave a review if you can! Thanks for reading**

* * *

When he finally decides to wake up, everything feels stiff. There's pain shooting through every inch of his body, weighing him down like a rock on the seabed. The blood from Dorothy's wounds has dried in dark, tacky patches against his shirt, flakes of it still embedded thickly beneath his nails. He can hardly move without disturbing some forgotten injury from Lilith's men last night. There's bruising on his stomach - he can feel it - and God knows how many scars to match the ones already carved into his back, courtesy of Zachariah. It's all enough to make him want to close his eyes and go back to sleep, but Dorothy's head is digging into his ribs, and the sunlight painting the walls tells him they'll soon be getting some company anyway.

"Dorothy," He whispers, gently nudging her shoulders. "Come on… I need to check your wounds."

He feels awful having to force her out of bed like this (especially after what Lilith did to her) but if he lets her sleep all day, she might never leave this room again. Sometimes you just need a stubborn friend to get you back onto your feet, or else you might forget how to walk all together.

"I know you're tired, okay? But you need to get up sometime."

Nothing. Not even a sleep-laden plea to go away. Castiel's never seen her like this before, so quiet and broken. What if she resents him for not helping her? She has every right to hate him after all; he just stood there and _watched_ while Lilith pummelled her on the floor, completely frozen with fear. He was too weak to do anything, to help his friend when she needed it most. What if she never forgives him for that?

"Dorothy, please… Don't ignore me."

He brushes the hair out of her face and touches her cheek. She feels cold. _Unnaturally_ cold.

"Dorothy?"

Everything starts to spin as he shakes her shoulder again, the sound of his own breath and heart beat echoing inside his head. He keeps on shaking, keeps on saying her name, but she never responds. Her eyes stay closed, and her body stays still. She won't wake up. _She won't wake up._

"Dorothy? Dorothy, answer me! Opens your eyes!"

He can hear the crack in his voice. He can feel the heat of fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. He can smell the blood still oozing from her wounds, covering his hands and clothes. He can taste the fear on his tongue.

"Please don't do this to me," He cries, gently patting her face to wake her up. "You can't be dead. You can't be dead. I need you to stay with me, Dorothy. I need… I _need_ you to stop this! Just stop it, please!"

But it doesn't stop. It _never_ stops. Her hair falls back into her eyes, and her head lolls against his shoulder. She's completely lifeless. The girl with enough fire and spunk to stand up to these abusive assholes day in, day out, is _dead_. Just like that, she's gone, and there's nothing he can do to bring her back.

"I'm so… I'm so sorry, Dorothy. I-I should've protected you."

He can't believe this is happening. How can this be happening?! It doesn't make any sense. He held her in his arms all night, and he never even noticed. When exactly did the life leave her body? When did she take her last breath? Was he asleep? Did she try and wake him? Was she _scared_? It just doesn't seem right that she disappeared like that, without so much as a goodbye. How he supposed to move on and accept that the girl resting against his chest right now is… is _gone_? He can't do it. He doesn't have the _strength_ to do it.

"I can't do this alone," He whimpers softly, squeezing his arms around her body to keep her close. "I just need you to be alive, okay? Can you do that for me? Just be asleep, alright? Just… Just don't be dead."

If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine she's okay, that she's still sleeping and everything is fine. But when he looks at her face - at the cuts and bruises marring her pale skin, at the purple lump that used to be her eye, at the crusty blood sealing her lips together - he knows that she's really gone for good this time, that this was one fight against Lilith that she just couldn't win.

"I'm sorry," He whispers again, no matter how useless that word might be at this point. "You deserved better. We _all_ did. This… This didn't need to happen to us, but it did. And for what? So our bigoted families wouldn't have to risk their reputation anymore? It's not fair. _You shouldn't be dead._ "

He's not talking to Dorothy, he knows. He's just talking to a bloody shell that _used_ to be his friend. But what else can he do? He needs to say these things before it's too late. It's only a matter of time before he ends up dead as well. And maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. Sure, Dean's looking for him, but what if he never comes? What if he's doomed to spend another week, month, _year_ in this place? He's not sure he can handle it. No, he _knows_ he can't handle it. And why should he have to? Maybe whatever comes next is better than all of this. Maybe he can finally just rest and be at peace, stop worrying about the next beating and forget everything. If he's such an abomination to the world, then why the hell should he stay? He just wants it to be over… No more worries, no more responsibilities. Just _nothing_. Is that so much to ask for?

"I want to keeping fighting," He says in croak, voice breaking as he pulls her even closer. "I-I want to make them pay for this, but… I don't know if I can… I'm not… I-I can't beat them… What do I do, Dorothy? Just tell me what to do!"

The silence is tearing him apart. He just wants her to lift her head, give him a smirk and say something sharp and witty in that classic Dorothy way of hers. But she doesn't move, and she doesn't speak. She's _dead_. Her skin is cold and grey, her chest is stiff, her arms are limp. She isn't _Dorothy_ anymore. Lilith took the life away from her, kicked and punched her body until it broke beyond repair. Maybe she didn't mean for this to happen, but does that really make much of a difference? She deserves to live with the blood of an innocent girl on her hands for the rest of her days. But knowing Lilith, she won't feel an ounce of guilt, won't even _care_. Dorothy was rebellious and outspoken - an _inconvenience_ \- and her being dead will probably make the twisted bitch smile more than anything.

"I… I need to get someone," He mutters to himself, slowly shifting off the bed in a trancelike state. He flinches at the sound of Dorothy's head hitting the pillow, but his legs keep moving towards the door as if on autopilot. Maybe this is what 'shock' feels like.

His hand falls flat against the door at first, breath coming short as he builds up the courage to call for help from the very people who did this. He clenches his fist, nails biting into his palms, and braces himself. He can feel his arm trembling with the effort of waiting, and the bruises on his stomach are making it difficult to stand. If he doesn't do this quickly, he might just sink to the ground and never get up again. But Dorothy deserves better than to rot away on some dingy bed, so he forces himself to at least rap his knuckles on the door. It doesn't make much of a sound, but at least it's something.

"Hello?" He moans through the wood. "Is anybody there? Hello? I need help in here."

He knocks again, this time with more force. He pounds his fists against the door until his skin breaks and his hands are bloody. He knocks and he knocks and he knocks, knees buckling with each movement. He's so close to just collapsing into a heap on the floor and drifting away... Maybe he'd end up wherever Dorothy is now. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad.

"She's dead!" He cries now, every word a struggle to squeeze out through his lungs. "Can you hear me?! She's dead! She's dead! She's -"

The door swings open without warning, his body tumbling through the gap and falling against something hard. It's a person - one of Lilith's men to be precise. He can feel the lines of muscle through his bulky garments, radiating strength that was used against him and Dorothy far too many times.

"What on earth are you crying about?" Lilith's quips from behind the guards, her face twisted with a fine mix of amusement and disgust. "I can hardly hear myself _think_ with all your whining."

Castiel doesn't even answer her, just silently turns towards Dorothy's body curled up on the bed. It's still hard to believe that she's not just sleeping. A small, desperate part of him still hopes that this is a stupid mistake, that Dorothy's unconscious from the beatings, but will soon recover. It might be wishful thinking, but he doesn't care. He just wants to wake up from this nightmare for good.

"What did you do?" Lilith hisses, shoving him aside as she rushes to the bed.

Castiel shakes his head. "What? I… I didn't do anything! You beat her too hard! She couldn't -"

"How _dare_ you blame me for this?!"

"But you -"

"I did what I've been doing for the past eight years of my life," She growls, creeping closer and closer until his back is pressed up against the wall. "And not _once_ has this happened. Don't you find it interesting that you were the last person to see this poor girl alive?"

Castiel's breath stutters. He can't believe what he's hearing right now. _Poor girl?_ Lilith hated Dorothy with a passion! And if she honestly thinks that he's capable of doing something like this, then she's more messed up than he first thought. The simple fact that she's trying to pin this on him makes his stomach clench with revulsion. How can someone be so evil? How is it humanely possible to be so cold and unfeeling? Dorothy is _dead_ at the hands of Lilith's cruelty, and yet she has the nerve to turn it on him. What's more frightening is how many people would take her word over his. The world is a sick place full of bigots and homophobes; it only makes sense that a jury would let someone like Lilith walk free, while he's thrown in jail for a crime he didn't commit.

"This wasn't me," He flares, desperately blinking back tears to mask his fear. "And when my family comes for me, you'll pay for what you've done… You will _pay_."

Lilith scoffs. "Your family were the ones who put you in here in the first place, you idiot."

"My uncle isn't my family. He might share my blood, but that's it. My _friends_ are my family. My _boyfriend_ is my family."

"Don't you talk about such things in front of me!"

"Why?!" He bites back, leaning into Lilith's space with a glare. "Can't you handle the fact that not everyone fits into your perfect little idea of normality, that I can be happy with another man even though it's not 'natural'? Maybe you should get over yourself for once."

He's not surprised when Lilith's hand comes flying towards him, striking him across the cheek so hard that his legs give out. It was stupid to talk to her like that, but maybe he doesn't care anymore. His friend is dead, and these people think it's okay to blame it on him. He can't keep living like this anymore. He's done with laying low and staying out of trouble. If he doesn't do something now, and Dean never finds him, he might have to endure this abuse for years to come. Unless, of course, he suffers the same fate as Dorothy. How could he possibly sleep at night knowing that he let his friend's murderer walk all over him like this? It's time to stop hiding in the shadows and stand up to these cruel, malicious people.

"That was a big mistake," Lilith hovers over him, venom dripping from her words. "You thought your time here was bad before? Well, prepare yourself for the _real_ pain, Castiel. Because it's coming for you."

No matter how hard he fights and thrashes against their hold, he's no match for Lilith's men as they drag him out the room and away from Dorothy's body. He keeps calling out to his friend, still hoping to hear some kind of reply to assure him that everything's okay. But it never comes. They take him down a corridor he's never used before, with Lilith following close behind, and then down a set of stairs leading into the darkness. It's like a scene from an old horror movie, each step creaking beneath their weight. He's never felt dread like this before, ice cold fear trickling down his neck as the shadows quickly engulf them.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Hush," Lilith jabs him sharply in the back. "Just keep walking."

When they finally reach the end of the stairs, he's taken down another corridor that leads to a tunnel of cells. It's an honest to god _dungeon_ and Castiel can hardly believe what he's seeing. The room he shared with Dorothy was a luxury compared to this. Behind the barred walls, the cells are completely bare - not even a toilet or bed in sight. No one should have to live in such conditions, being forced to sleep in the same place they do their business, without even a blanket to ease the cold discomfort surrounding them.

"What… What is this place?"

"Your new home."

"No," He tries to wriggle out of their grip, but the guards are holding his arms too tightly. "You can't make me stay here! This… This is _torture_. You're _torturing_ us!"

Lilith grabs his chin, turning his head to meet her eyes, and smiles. "Oh, don't be such a drama queen."

"You're insane. You can't _do_ this."

"Watch me."

The rusty screech of one of the cells being opened cuts through him like glass. He's tossed inside, palms scraping against the ground as he falls face first. Lilith is standing over the threshold with her arms folded when he turns back, same old smirk tugging at her thin lips. Castiel's never wanted to lunge at someone so badly before, but the pain in his stomach keeps him bounded to his knees.

"You're uncle's an old friend," She says with a sickly sweet smile. "So I'm not going to kill you, don't worry. But he did pay me _generously_ to cure you by the end of the month. Do you think you could help me with that?"

"You're sick."

"We can always keep you here longer. You can stay in this cell until your disease is overcome. But if you cooperate, this will all be over much quicker."

Castiel scoots to the opposite end of the cell, cradling his bloody hands in his lap.

"You can't stop me being gay," He sniffs. "Maybe things would be easier if I wasn't, but that wasn't a choice I was able to make. I am who I am, and that's that. Why can't you just accept it?"

Lilith scoffs. "Homosexuality is a sickness of the mind, Castiel. With enough treatment, it _can_ be cured."

"You're kidding yourself."

"We'll see who's right then, won't we?"

"Scaring people into pretending they're straight isn't the same as curing them. If anything, it's _blackmail_. You've made a business based on lies!"

"You shut your mouth," Lilith points a warning finger in his direction. "A girl is dead, and her blood is all over your body. All it would take is one phone call to send you off to jail."

"Call them," He snarls back. "Let them see how you treat innocent children here."

Lilith huffs a laugh and steps away, instructing her men to close the cell door behind her. She looks eerily calm with her hands folded neatly over her stomach, eyes bright and not a hair out of place. Castiel gets the feeling his empty threats are nothing more than just that to her; she doesn't seem worried in the slightest.

"I've covered my tracks plenty of times before," She smiles. "So don't think you scare me, little boy. I've been doing this for years."

And with that, she disappears into the darkness with her men in tow, leaving him behind in a cold, barren cell with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. It's not until he lifts a hand to sooth the mark on his cheek that he notices the words on his arm. It's a name scraped into the dried layer of blood on his skin - _Gilda_. The girl Dorothy was caught messaging. She must have managed to write it before she… Well, you know. Which means she must have been aware of what was going to happen to her. In her final moments, she wanted to ask him for a favour; she wanted him to find Gilda and tell her the true of why she left without a word. That's the one thing she ever really asked him for, and hell if he's not going to respect her wishes.

"Okay," He whispers into the empty cell. "Okay, I'll tell her."

And then the tears start coming for real, clogging his throat and stinging his eyes as he curls in on himself. He's alone now - _really_ alone. His friend is dead, Dean has no way of finding him, and Lilith is still confident. He can stand up to her as much as he likes, but she's still going to win. It's sad, but that's how the world works. She's going to get away with this, and he's going to die in this dungeon completely alone. He just wishes there was a way to speed up the process…

* * *

He doesn't see Lilith for at least a few days. Other than the guy who brings his food every morning, he has _no_ human contact whatsoever. He's cold and hungry and tired, and the fight is slowly draining from his body. He's soiled a corner of the cell already, and just thinking about it makes him burn with embarrassment. He's been reduced to some kind of animal, roaming around in a cage with all his rights stripped away. The only thing keeping him going is Dorothy's last request. He needs to get out of the place, so he can find Gilda and grant his friend's final wish. It's the least he can do for her.

When Lilith shows up next, he knows he's in for a long day. She's brought her usual cronies with her, and the smirk on her face is enough to make him shrink back in fear. He feels like he's about to be taken off to the slaughterhouse; there's a hungry glint in Lilith's eyes that sets his heart pounding.

"Good news," She says with a breezy smile. "You're getting out of here."

Castiel quickly sits up, pain tearing through the bruises on his stomach. He doesn't want to raise his hopes for nothing, but he can't help the excitement from fluttering in his chest.

"You mean… You mean I'm going home?"

"Not exactly. I'm taking you to meet some people."

"No," He swallows thickly, heart deflating as he sits back down. "I'd rather stay here."

Lilith purses her lips. "I don't recall giving you a choice in the matter."

"Please, just… just leave me alone."

"Sorry, but that's not going to happen. You think I brought you down here for a holiday or something?"

"Why _did_ you bring me here?"

Lilith grins. "Come with me and you'll find out."

He follows them down another mystery corridor, leaning against the walls to keep himself upright. This new hunger and exhaustion has made his wounds feel even worse, and the very act of standing up for too long is making him want to vomit again. But it's not long before they reach a set of double doors and Lilith is turning around, looking down at him with a chilling smile as her men take hold of his arms.

"I must warn you," She says. "You might find these sessions a little upsetting at first."

Castiel drops his head. "No more sessions…"

"I'm afraid so."

"But I'm _tired_ of them! I need to get some more rest."

"I'll be the one deciding that, thank you."

"But -"

"This isn't a negotiation," She snaps, her patience quickly dissolving. "You can either come with us willingly, or we can drag you inside like a dog. It's up to you."

Castiel isn't stupid; he knows he has no choice here. So instead of fighting, he relaxes in the guards' grip and doesn't say a word as the doors are opened. The room inside is large and empty, save the five other kids sitting in a row on the floor. Their heads are bowed, and their bodies are bare. Castiel has to force himself not to look away, the memories of standing naked in front of his fellow prisoners making him shudder.

"What is this?"

"I told you. It's another session," Lilith says sweetly, stepping in between him and the other kids. "Now it's your turn to strip."

Castiel balls his fists. "No. No, I'm not doing that again."

"You'll do exactly as I ask."

" _No_."

"May I remind you of your current situation?" She raises a daring eyebrow. "You know, it wouldn't be too difficult to replicate poor Dorothy's fate."

"You said my uncle's a friend of yours."

"Yes, but I could easily make it seem like an accident."

Castiel shakes his head. "Why are you doing this? How do you _justify_ the things you do?"

"By knowing that your kind is an abomination that must be stopped."

"You're wrong."

"And you're still _clothed_ ," She growls. "Now take them off and go stand over there before I get angry."

Castiel doesn't bother arguing this time, just sniffs back the tears welling in his eyes as he slips out of his dirty clothes. He misses the Pink Floyd shirt he came in with , misses the softness of the warn material, and the lingering scent of Dean woven deep into the cotton. It was a small comfort to get him through the tough times, and now it's gone - along with Dorothy and any remaining shred of hope he once had.

Standing in front of the other children doesn't feel so mortifying when they're naked as well. It makes him feel like they're all in the same boat, which they are in a way. The others aren't fighting back tears like he is though; they're sat quiet and stoic with their eyes fixed on the floor. His blubbering seems ridiculous in comparison, despite his efforts to muffle the whimpering sounds escaping his lips. He wants to be as strong as them, but the reality of what's happening is just too much to bear. All he can do is square his shoulders and swallow the lump in his throat, desperately trying to compose himself as he joins the rest of the group.

"Don't sit down," Lilith intrusts him. "You're going to take part in a little experiment first."

It takes every ounce of his self-control not to lash out and say something stupid. He's starting to realize why Dorothy found it so hard to hold her tongue; enough time in this place will turn you into a bitter, careless shell of yourself. He doesn't want to end up that way.

"Okay," Lilith claps her hands and turns to the other kids. "It's your turn, Jenna."

Castiel watches as a young girl with dark hair and impossibly blue eyes slowly stands up. She's pretty, he notes, like one of those princesses from the movies Anna used to love. He can't bear to hold her gaze for too long though; the controlled fear shining in her eyes is enough to make him feel even more useless and weak. God knows how long she's been down here with the rest of them, and yet she's ten times stronger than heis right now. He should still be rearing to fight, but all he really wants to do is lay down and sleep. His vow to keep his promise to Dorothy is the only reason he dragged himself down here instead of letting Lilith kill him in the first place.

"Now embrace each other."

Castiel furrows his brow, looking between Lilith and Jenna with a frown. "What?"

"You heard me, Castiel. Hug the girl."

"But… But -"

"She's not decent? Well, that's entirely the point."

"You mean you want us to… what? Fornicate in front of everyone?"

Lilith clicks her tongue. "Don't be ridiculous. I just want to remind your body of its natural desires."

"But my body desires _men_."

"No, that's just what you've convinced yourself is true. It's just a case of mind over matter. Your supposed homosexuality is simply psychological."

"You honestly think I chose to be gay?"

"As did the rest of you."

Castiel scoffs. "Your ignorance is astounding."

"Do _not_ give me that attitude, Castiel! I'm getting tired of having to deal with it."

He's about to say something else to really aggravate her (made he'll get beaten half to death and sent back to his cell - good old Dorothy style), but then he catches the frantic look in Jenna's eyes. She's silently shaking her head at him, willing him not to make the situation worse than it already is. He remembers how Aaron was once punished for _his_ bad behaviour; it's Lilith's way of making you blame yourself for everything awful that happens in this godforsaken place. It makes sense that down here, where things are clearly far more extreme than usual sessions, it's common to share each other's punishments around. He doesn't want to carry that same guilt on his shoulders again. Obeying Lilith is the only way to guarantee that no one gets hurt.

"I'm sorry," He whispers to Jenna, placing a hesitant hand on her bare shoulder. "I wish I didn't have to -"

"Don't worry about it," She smiles tightly. "Just do it."

With Lilith watching closely, they both press their bodies together, arms awkwardly winding around each other's waists. Castiel can feel the warm, soft flesh of Jenna's stomach touching the hard lines of his own, and the tickle of her hair brushing his face. He tries to imagine that this is just a regular hug, that Lilith isn't scrutinizing their every move. But it's impossible to pretend everything's okay when you're completely exposed in front of an audience of strangers, skin prickling with fear and shame.

"Okay. Now touch her breasts."

Castiel flinches. Hugging her is one thing, but he refuses to fondle _anyone_ against their own will. It's disgusting and cruel and _wrong_ on so many levels.

"No," He grits his teeth, shooting Lilith a stormy glare. "I won't do that."

Lilith rolls her eyes. "You will do what I say."

"No I won't."

He can see the panic rising in Jenna's face, her stony expression finally starting to crack. She must think she's about to get punched and kicked at any moment. She clearly wants him to do what Lilith says, no matter how humiliating. Being spared the pain of Lilith's beatings is worth being publicly shamed apparently. And it makes sense; he knows what it feels like to be thrown to the ground and showered with aches and burns and blood... So maybe touching her (despite it going against his every instinct) would _really_ be the kind thing to do. Maybe swallowing his pride and self-respect is the only way to help her right now.

But before he can apologise, Lilith is yanking him away from Jenna and into the arms of her men. He feels about ten inches tall as his naked body smacks into them, face burning at the idea of them getting some sick kind of pleasure out of it. The beatings he can take, but _that_? No… No, he will _not_ be passed around like a chew toy.

"Get off of me," He grouses, desperately tugging out of their grip. "Let me go!"

"I had a feeling you weren't ready for this stage yet," Lilith says with a sigh, tapping her chin as she leans into Castiel's face. He can feel her breath - hot and minty - against his cheeks, making the urge to throw up even stronger. "I guess I have no other choice."

"What do you mean by that?!"

"Oh, you'll see."

He doesn't get the chance to protest before he's being dragged away from Jenna and back through the double doors. He can see his own horror being mirrored in her expression, blue eyes gleaming with sympathy. That can only mean that wherever they're taking him, it's not going to be pleasant. Not that _anything_ about this whole experience has been pleasant in the slightest. He just hopes that if they're planning on killing him, they'll at least make it quick and relatively painless.

* * *

The room is small and dark, with a single chair in the centre and a projector aimed at a screen on the wall. He's filled with a sense of dread as Lilith's men force him into the chair, strapping his arms and legs against the cold metal to keep him from moving. He can't even speak when a ball of cloth is shoved into his mouth. He's completely helpless - mute, paralysed, and utterly powerless under Lilith's control. All he can do is follow her eyes, glinting in the darkness, as she walks up and down the room. He feels like he's in an extreme version of detention or something, with the cranky teacher thirsty to get her own back. If only he'd stuck to the plan and kept quiet, refrained from provoking Lilith as some kind of pitiful revenge, then maybe he wouldn't be in this mess. He only has himself and his ridiculous delusions of escape to blame.

"What I'm about to do isn't strictly legal without your consent," Lilith says in that sweet, butter-wouldn't-melt voice again. "So I'm going to ask you to sign some papers before we start, okay?"

Castiel tries to object, but the cloth in his mouth garbles his words into nonsense.

"Oh, I'm only teasing. Let's get to it, shall we?"

With that, she flicks on the projector, letting the machine roar to life as a dim light flickers onto the screen. The grainy photo of a young boy in nothing but shorts slowly fades into view. The golden sand between his toes reminds Castiel of a rare family holiday they took when he was six. He remembers insisting on pushing Anna's stroller across the beach, the wheels getting caught in the sand with every few steps. It's crazy to think that he hasn't seen his sister - the one person he's never been more than a few days apart from in the past - in over three months. He's aching to hear her laugh and stroke her hair, to be a big brother again. It's killing him not being able to look after her. God knows where Naomi has her held captive right now.

"Okay. This is how it's going to work," Lilith says as something is put over his head. He can feel pressure on his temples, practically squeezing his brain together. "I'm going to show you some photos. With each inappropriate image, you'll receive a shock. This will allow your mind to associate your sinful desires with pain. Understand?"

Castiel wrestles against the straps over his arms and legs, screaming as loud as he can through the cloth in his mouth. He's about to be _electrocuted_ , for Christ's sake! Hasn't that been illegal for years now? You can't just go around shocking the gay out of people. The fact that Lilith even thinks something like that would work makes him fear for his safety even more; this place is being run by lunatics.

"I'm going to take that as yes," She chuckles, giving him a wink before turning to her men. "Let's start him on a medium. Don't want him passing out too soon, do we?"

And then the photos start rolling. His heart leaps with each change, anticipating the first shock to come. At first, the images are happy and light - even calming in a way. There are pictures of families eating together, teenage girls laughing on a park bench, a man and a woman getting married, a church full of people, an elderly man holding a kite with a little girl by his side… And then, all of a sudden, a picture of a boy lying bare-chested on a couch pops up, and white hot pain is quickly flaring through his skull.

Another scream is ripped out of his body as the shock runs through his flesh, leaving behind an unpleasant tingle of heat and indescribable agony. It's like his veins are humming for a few moments afterwards, tiredly pumping the remaining electricity through his bloodstream.

"Good," Lilith hums. "That's very good, Castiel."

The photos carry on changing again, but he can barely keep his eyes open to watch the screen. After just one shock, he's overcome with the urge to sleep. He wishes he could curl up in this chair for just a few hours; it may not be particularly comfortable, but it's better than the cold, hard ground of his cell. But Lilith is still watching him closely, so there's no chance he'd get away with it. Still, it's like a pair of hands are dragging him beneath the surface of consciousness, lulling him into a deep, deep slumber… He could fall asleep _right_ now, Lilith be damned. He could forget everything about this awful place and just drift away.

But before the darkness can engulf him, the next picture on the screen wakes him up in an instant. It's a photo of Dean - one he remembers taking about a week before Christmas. They were standing out on the porch, cheeks rosy from the cold, and Dean was teasing him about something he can't even remember now. Charlie had asked them to take some seasonal photos to send to Jo over the holidays, so they'd decided to snap some pics of the snow-covered parking lot outside Opal Grove. Castiel remembers with such clarity the way Dean had flicked a lump of ice onto his gloveless hands, making him yelp much louder than necessary. They'd laughed about it for a solid ten minutes, and that's when he'd taken the photo. Dean looked so happy, grinning like a school boy with dimples and freckles and twinkling eyes. Seeing it again makes his heart clench with longing.

He doesn't get a chance to savour the memory before more pain is shooting through his head though. The shocks seem to spread through his fingers this time, making his legs twitch and spasm like a couple of fish struggling on dry land. He tries to suck in a breath, but it feels hot and scratchy. The cloth is blocking his airways, forcing him to breathe deeply through his nose. It's only then that he feels the heat tricking down his thigh, the realization making him sob. _He just peed himself_. The pain was so overwhelming, he couldn't even control his bladder. He's never wanted to disappear so badly before in his life.

"That happens a lot," Lilith reassures him, though her voice is thick with condescension. "Your uncle was kind enough to lend us that photo. He found it in your pocket apparently."

Castiel faintly recalls keeping that picture on his bedside table. Whenever he was feeling down, he'd sit up in bed and look at it, hoping that Dean's smile would somehow cheer him up. It's been folded and un-folded so many times, the picture is creased with white lines. It's very possible he had it in his sweats the morning Zachariah came to take him away. The fact that his uncle knows what Dean looks like makes him feel sick.

"Okay. Let's move onto the next one."

The photos start rolling again, but they don't get far before another guard comes bursting into the room. Lilith switches the projector off with a scowl, ushering the man into a corner. They stand there, whispering together for a minute or so, before Lilith whips back around. Her expression is different; she's no longer wearing that cocky smirk or hers. There's genuine worry etched into her face, something Castiel has never seen before.

"This session is over," She says, voice groggy for some reason. "Let's get moving."

Castiel's unstrapped and hoisted out of the chair in mere seconds, thrown over one of the guard's shoulders like a rag doll as they head for the door. His vision is dipping and spinning, stomach contents sloshing back and forth, back and forth… He's not sure if he's about to vomit or faint - or _both_. It's probably best to avoid that particular combination though. The only thing he's aware of is the corridor zipping past, blurring into a grey smudge as they round another corner and head deeper into the darkness.

He manages to spit out the cloth in his mouth, which eases his disorientation somewhat. He tries blinking against the pain spotting his vision, trying to make out where they are, but he's lost. All he knows is that one of the guards are carrying him, and Lilith is following close behind.

"Wha… What's happening?"

"Shut him up!" Lilith hisses in the darkness. "Before he rats us out!"

Castiel has no idea what she's talking about, but then a muffled voice comes bouncing down the corridor. He must have finally gone mad, because he could _swear_ the voice was calling his name. Maybe he's dying, and that's the sound of the angels coming for him. Not that he even believes in angels. But there's something about the voice that fills him with a strange kind of warmth, like happiness pooling in his stomach. It's low and rumbling, but smooth like honey at the same time. There's something weirdly familiar about it… The way it wraps around his name, calling with such heat and desperation. If he didn't know better, he'd think it was -

"Dean?"

"Oh, great!" Lilith grouches. "Where did the gag go?!"

Castiel's heart is racing now, pounding against his chest at the mere possibility that Dean is here, that he's come to save him like he promised he would. His bones are heavy, like weights dragging his limbs across the floor, but he still tries to fight against the guard holding him over his shoulder.

"Dean!" He croaks, desperately trying to raise his voice above the pain. "I-I'm here! Dean, I'm here!"

Lilith curses under her breath and stops, grabbing the man's arm to slow him down. Without their footsteps beating against his ear drums, he can almost hear the distant sound of someone approaching.

"I'll take him," She pants. "Just hold them off."

And just like that, he's handed over to his next carrier. His arm is draped loosely over Lilith's shoulders as they manoeuvre down the corridor, the scuffling of feet hot on their trails. If he wasn't so drowsy from the shocks, he'd maybe appreciate the scene more; it's like they've been plucked straight from one of Dean's cheesy action flicks. He likes to think that if he and Dean were watching this from the safety of his bedroom, there'd be popcorn and sweets and laughter and fun… It's a nice image to lose himself in as the pain continues to drag him under.

"You stupid brat," Lilith mutters under her breath. "You stupid, ungrateful _brat_."

The splash of water beneath his feet tells him they've reached the tunnels. It's cold and dank down here, the smell of mud and rain and waste making his eyes water.

"Your uncle is on his way," Lilith growls. "So don't go thinking you're getting out of here so easily. He's coming to take us away from this place. You'll never see your precious boyfriend again."

Castiel's too weak to even respond. His eyelids are starting to droop, pulse slowing down with each second. He clenches his fists against another wave of pain as they stumble over a loose rock. The world is getting darker, closing in around him. If he passes out now, there's no chance of getting out. Zachariah will come for him, and he and Lilith will sneak him off to some abandoned warehouse where no one will find him. He'll be alone for real then, without even a whisper of hope to get him through.

He's just about given up when a figure suddenly steps out of the shadows ahead. Lilith screeches to a halt, shielding him behind her back, and stares wide-eyed at the mystery person blocking their way.

"Who are you?!" She cries, voice wobbling with panic.

Castiel's breath catches in his throat as the figure comes closer, the light from a crack in the ceiling above falling over his face. He instantly recognises the dirty blonde hair flattened against his forehead, the familiar shade of those moody blue eyes filling his heart with newfound hope.

"Name's Luke," The boy says with a cool, ghost of a smile. "Now get your hands off my little brother."


	25. Chapter 25

**This chapter is short, late AND sad. So, yeah... Sorry about that! But I hope you enjoy it anyway. Please leave a review if you can! Thank you :)**

* * *

Castiel doesn't know what to think right now. He's not sure whether to trust the image of Luke standing in the shadows before him, or to simply wave it off as a trick of the mind. His head is swimming with pain and sleepiness from the shocks, so God knows what's actually _real_ anymore.

"Luke?" He says weakly, the word slurring from his lips. "Is that… I-Is that really you?"

Luke takes another step forward and smiles. It's softer than the usual cocky smirks he remembers so well, but still achingly familiar. He's here. He's _really_ here.

"Yeah, Cassy. Your big bro came to save you."

Lilith instantly tightens her grip on his wrist, yanking him back with a defensive growl in Luke's direction. Her eyes are blazing, but Castiel can see the fear dancing between the flames as well. She's clearly scared. Being caught off guard like this obviously wasn't part of her master plan to escape. You'd think the fear would make her less intimidating, but instead she seems wild and deranged. Castiel gets the feeling he's being held captive by a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any moment.

"So _you're_ the infamous Lucas, hm? It's so nice to put a name to a face."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, me and your uncle go way back. Well, _Castiel's_ uncle, that is. You're not really part of the Milton family, are you?"

Luke snarls. "Gladly not. That family's nothing but a bunch of sour, old hypocrites blaming the bible for their fucked up views of the world."

"I take it you're not the religious type either?"

"You can say that again."

Lilith huffs a laugh, her eyes turning dark as she stares Luke down. Castiel can feel her bony fingers squeezing what little oxygen he has left out of his body. Her one hand is wrapped firmly around his chest, and the other is clinging to his wrist with vice-like strength. Even if Castiel wasn't high on pain right now, he's not sure what his chances of wiggling out of her hold would be like.

"There's no wonder Zachariah was so ashamed of you," She spits. "Your mother was a whore, your father was a cheat, and _you're_ just a sad little boy inflated with adolescent rage. It's pathetic, really."

Luke grinds his teeth. "At least I'm not the one torturing kids for being who they are."

"These aren't _children_ , you imbecile. Castiel is almost eighteen. He's old enough to make his own decisions, to know the difference between right and wrong!"

"Being gay isn't wrong."

"Well, it's certainly not natural, is it?"

"Why does it bother you so much anyway? You know what they say about homophobes: closet cases, the lot of them."

Lilith's eyebrows shoot up beneath her hair, jaw dropping in shock. "If you're insinuating that I… That I could even… That I would even _want_ to… Well, you're insane!"

"Tad defensive, aren't we?"

"I'm _disgusted_ ," Her nostrils flare like a wild ape's, eyes still scarily wide from Luke's accusation. "There's a reason I started this business, and that's to _stop_ the impurity leaching into our country! This world is being tarnished with the likes of you and your brother. Can't you see that?"

Luke shrugs. "So the guy likes penis. Don't knock it til you try it, right?"

"Don't you speak that filth to me -"

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't realize you will still stuck in the 19th century. I'll try and be a little more sensitive."

Lilith purses her lips. "I don't have time for this nonsense."

"How come? It's not like you're going anywhere."

"I'm taking Castiel to a secure location. He'll have a chance to heal properly there, without any distractions."

Luke balls his fists and snorts, lips twitching with barely concealed anger as he steps forward again. Castiel can see the tension in his shoulders to match the veins popping from his neck. As Dean would say, he looks like he's about to 'Hulk out'.

"Like hell you are."

"Don't worry, Lucas. Zachariah will be there too."

"Oh, that's really comforting."

"We're going to help your brother, no matter what it takes. We _owe_ him that."

Luke frowns. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Zachariah had a chance to prevent this from happening a long time ago, but he failed. He's blamed himself for the way Castiel turned out from the very start."

"Prevent it how?"

"Homosexuality is a sickness of the mind. It can affect even the most God fearing people," Lilith shakes her head sadly. "Your father was one of them. Even after bearing two sons, he still had those sinful desires. Zachariah was convinced his disease would influence Castiel's upbringing, and he was right. I tried to reach out to him numerous times, but he refused. He didn't think a change was necessary."

Castiel is only slightly surprised. He knew Zachariah hated his father for more than just being poor. Now it makes sense why he never liked him; he always thought he'd end up like his dad.

"I couldn't care less who my dad liked to fuck," Luke says bitterly. "He left me when I was just a baby. I'm _over_ him, okay? All I give a damn about right now is saving my brother. The world needs more people like him. There aren't enough good guys to spare anymore."

Even with the pain pulsing in his head, Castiel still manages a smile. That's probably the nicest thing Luke has ever said to him. He just wishes it were under different circumstances.

"It runs in the family," Lilith suddenly snaps. "We need to break the chain at _some_ point!"

"He's not some link in a chain! He's a _person_ , you evil bitch!"

Lilith sucks in a gasp, her grip going slack for just a second. Castiel can probably guess how many people have had the nerve to speak to her like that before. It's strangely satisfying seeing the usual glitter of triumph melting off her face, the cruel purse of her lips replaced with an 'O' of shock horror. It's a picture worthy moment really, something he'd proudly hang above his bed to help him sleep at night.

"How -"

"How dare I? How dare _you_?" Luke takes another step forward, now only a few feet away from them. "You snatch kids out of their homes and cage them like animals. Do you really think you have the right to lecture me on _my_ manners?"

Lilith flinches when Luke keeps walking. "Don't come any closer. I'm warning you!"

"What are you going to do about it?"

Before he knows what's even happening, there's a cold blade being pressed against his throat. Lilith's arm is shaking where it's slung around his shoulder, the other hand clutching the back of his shirt. The scratchy material aggravates the cuts on his back, and the chill of the knife sets his jaw trembling. If possible, his head suddenly feels even lighter than before. The sting of fresh blood beading from the shallow gash beneath the blade seems far away, but the fear inside his chest is suffocating.

"I'll kill him," Lilith croaks. "If you try and stop us, I will _kill_ him."

Luke takes a step back, holding his hands up in surrender. Castiel's never seen him look so frightened before, with no clue what to do next. He can feel the hope slipping through his fingers all over again.

"Alright, okay. Let's just calm down," Luke says in a wavering tone of composure. "You're just making this worse than it has to be."

"I think you're overestimating how much I care about this abomination," Lilith curls her lip in disgust. "If you don't let me go, I'll have no reason to keep him alive."

"She won't do it," Castiel suddenly interrupts. "She doesn't want another murder charge added to her sentence."

Luke furrows his brow. " _Another_ murder charge?"

"Oh, yeah. She killed my friend. Beat her to death actually," Castiel forces himself to keep talking, despite the pain slowly lulling him to sleep. "She beats us, strips us, starves us, _electrocutes_ us, makes us sleep in cages, forces us to touch each other inappropriately… She's a monster, and she deserves to spend the rest of her life in prison."

Lilith yanks him back again. "You better stop talking before I cut your throat!"

"But Luke needs to hear this, so he can tell the police. So you get what you really deserve."

" _You_ can tell the police," Luke says. "You're not going anywhere, Cassy."

"But just in case -"

"I don't want to hear it, okay?"

"Well, tough," He whimpers through the agony twisting his senses. "I had to live through it, so you can damn well _listen_ to it! If I don't make it out, I want to make sure the police know _exactly_ what goes on in this place."

Lilith grabs his left hand with a growl, squeezing the old wounds beneath the muddied bandages. The pain washes over him, darkening his vision as he sinks to the ground. Fresh blood trickles down his wrist, and his hands shake with the aching discomfort throbbing in his palms. He has to blink a few times to get rid of the black spots in the corner of his eye, but he's soon getting back onto his feet with a groan.

"You can't hurt me anymore," He says in a whisper, fixing Lilith with the coldest stare he can manage right now. "I've felt it all before."

Again, she takes his hands and squeezes.

"You think you're strong? Well, that's just pathetic," Her voice is trembling now, but there's still flames dancing in her eyes. "I've got a knife to your throat, you stupid boy. Don't try and play games with me, because I think we _both_ know who's going to win."

Luke watches on, completely helpless as Lilith digs her nails deeper into Castiel's wounds. His fists are clenching and unclenching by his sides, thirsty to pummel Lilith where she stands. But to think they actually have a chance against the crazy woman with a knife would just be senseless. Castiel doesn't resent his brother for not stepping in, even when the pain squeezes a broken cry out of him, forcing him back to the ground. He knows it's better than being stabbed to death. The last thing he wants to do is scar Luke for life by bleeding out in front of him, especially when there's the chance Dean could walk in at any moment. Right now, he needs to fight as hard as he can - if not for himself, then for his family.

Lilith turns back to Luke with a glare. "If you try and stop us, I'll do much worse than hold his hand."

Castiel can barely grasp what's going on as Lilith starts dragging him down the tunnel again, slowly inching past Luke with the knife still held to his throat. The blade is digging in a little deeper now, painting a thin red line across his Adam's apple. But it's the fear clawing at his chest that really hurts, blocking out any other sensation with it's thick, foreboding stench of what's to come. Either he gets stabbed, or he lives the rest of his short life in an abandoned warehouse under the care of Lilith and his uncle. No matter what way he looks at it, they've lost, and this is it. He's never going to see Dean or Anna, or any of his friends ever again. The only consolation is that they managed to save everyone else in this godforsaken place before it was too late.

"Find Gilda," He begs Luke as he's dragged away. "She knew my friend, Dorothy! The one who was killed. Find her and tell her what happened, please!"

Luke keeps walking backwards, arms outstretched in an effort to block their path as planned. But Castiel can see the desperation in his expression, his usual confidence whittled away to nothing but fear. If he tries and stops them, God knows what Lilith will do. At this point, it wouldn't surprise him if she kept good to her word and actually slit his throat as promised. People will do crazy things for freedom.

"Just hold on for a second," Luke hisses, still trying to save the day. "I'll let you go. Just… Just leave him behind. You don't _need_ him!"

Lilith scoffs. "You honestly think I'm that stupid, that I don't know you won't just chase after me once I'm gone?"

"You're the one with the knife, lady. _You're_ calling the shots."

For just a second, Castiel could swear she's _this_ close to giving in. Her grip on his arms loosens slightly, and her stony expression flickers with a hint of surrender, but it doesn't last long. Before Luke gets the chance to push the offer further, the scuffling of more footsteps approaching the tunnels makes them both jump.

"Cas! Cas, it's me!" The sound of Dean's voice is like a rush of adrenaline. He tries turning towards him, but Lilith is already spinning them both around, her body freezing at the sudden invasion. They turn in unison, with Lilith still holding him close to her chest, just as the knife falls away from his throat. Her arm jerks in surprise at the sight of all these people standing before them: Dean, Bobby, Mary - even Balthazar. They've all come to save him.

But he only gets a second to appreciate the view before he feels the blade plunging into his stomach, white hot pain crumpling his body as he falls to his knees.

"NO!" Dean roars.

All around him, chaos ensues. He can hear Lilith gasping behind him, the clink of the knife hitting the ground as she sucks in a breath. She doesn't get the chance to process what she's done before Luke is shoving her against the wall though. His whole body is shaking with anger as he holds an arm against her throat and keeps her in place, eyes literally black with pure rage. He hopes Lilith can finally understand what it feels like to see genuine hatred reflected in someone's expression as they hold you down like a bug.

The next thing he knows, there's someone crouching down beside him, large hands pressing against the wound in his stomach. Blood gushes between the thick fingers curling around his waist, and hot breath flutters against his nose as his head is carefully laid onto the person's lap.

"Cas. Cas, baby, open your eyes."

He recognises the warm roughness of that voice immediately. It takes every ounce of strength he has to force his eyes open, if only to catch one last glimpse of Dean before he dies.

"You… You came for me."

Dean cups his face - stubbled from days without shaving - and catches a stray tear rolling down his cheek. His jaw is trembling with the effort not to cry as he brings his face closer, planting a soft kiss against his forehead. Castiel leans into the touch as much as he can. He's missed these lips so much; he'd almost forgotten how soft they are, leaving a warm patch of tingling skin as he pulls away.

"Of course I came, you idiot. I'm frickin' whipped."

A watery laugh bubbles in his chest. Even Dean manages a small, pained little smile, and it's the best thing he's seen since arriving in this place.

"Dean," He coughs at the feeling of something sticky in his throat. "I don't… I-I don't think I'm going to…"

"Shut the hell up," Dean sniffs back the tears, but they still come streaming down his face. Castiel's never seen his eyes so green before. They're like two beacons in the darkness, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the boy hovering over his body. He wants nothing more than to take his hand and kiss his knuckles, to tell him everything's going to be okay, but he doesn't even have the strength to lift his arms right now. "You're gonna be fine, okay? It's not even that bad, alright? It's just a flesh wound."

Castiel forces a smile. "Okay."

He can feel the blood leaving his body in a steady stream. Even with Dean's hand pressing down on the wound, it's not enough pressure to stop the bleeding. His energy is trickling away with each haggard breath. Every swallow feels like a rock lodged in his throat, and every blink makes it harder to keep his eyes open.

Dean turns towards the rest of them with a cry. "Where the hell is the ambulance?!"

"They're on their way, son. Don't worry."

" _Don't worry_? Fuck, Bobby, how the hell d'you expect me to do that?!"

"Calm down, sweetie."

Dean flits his eyes over the group of ashen faces watching the scene play out. Castiel can feel the broken sob racking his body as he pulls him close to his chest, burrowing his nose in the top of his hair. An arm snakes beneath his legs, and then Dean's picking him up with a grunt. His face is pinched with anger as he shoves past the rest of them and out of the tunnels.

"You all think he's gonna die!" He spits. "That's why you're not tryin' to help, right? You've given up on him! Well, I can't do that. I'm not gonna let him go again."

Mary reaches out for him, her eyes red with tears. "Dean, wait! You shouldn't move him."

"He needs to get to a damn hospital."

"The doctors are _coming_ -"

"I'm not gonna sit here and watch him bleed out!"

Bobby scrubs a hand over his face as Mary takes a step back, bowing her head as she lets them pass. Even Balthazar is struggling; Castiel can see the sheen of unshed tears in his eyes. But each and every one of them shares the same look of despair. They _do_ think he's going to die, and that's why they don't want Dean to make a fuss and carry him out. They want to spare him the pain of watching the doctors pointlessly try to save him, despite knowing he's too far gone already. And maybe, if he wasn't so selfish, Castiel would want him to stop as well. But he's happy in Dean's arms. They're warm and strong and safe, and there's no place he'd rather die. Here, with Dean holding him close and kissing his cheek, he can finally be at peace.

Everything seems to move in slow motion as Dean carries him back through the building. There are kids standing outside their cages, not sure what to do with themselves, and guards knocked out here and there. It's all so surreal, and his brain is too tired to try and process it all. He recognises the large man standing at the end of the corridor though; his thickset shoulders and surly expression are pretty hard to forget.

"The police just arrived," John says gruffly, eyes skimming over his limp body before snapping back to Dean. "You okay, boy?"

Dean swallows thickly and clears his throat. "Cas, uh… He needs a doctor."

"Okay. You want me to take him?"

"No."

"Dean, I don't think -"

"Don't _touch_ him, okay?!"

John's lips press into a thin line, eyes empty as he nods his head. He doesn't think he's going to make it either, Castiel can tell. He's got that same sympathetic look on his face, but he's trying to act normal for Dean's sake. No one wants to be the one who breaks the bad news to him.

"Okay. You go on up. I'll find your mom."

Dean doesn't even reply this time, just keeps walking towards the sound of the officers storming the building. They rush past them without much thought. Castiel can just see a streak of dark grey, paired with the muffled voices of strangers from every direction. He thinks he maybe sees Aaron stuffed amongst the crowd of trembling kids in one of the rooms they pass, but he can't be sure. He just hopes he's okay like the rest of them, especially after what he did to him. What _Lilith_ did to him.

Sunlight breaks over them like shards of glass as Dean pushes the doors open. It's getting late, but the sky is still a brilliant shade of blue, and Castiel can feel the mild warmth of a winter's day coming to a close. He breathes in deeply, letting all the various smells of grass and dirt and sunshine melt the pain away. The blood seeping from his wound is turning tacky against his shirt, but the gentle touch of Dean's fingers holding him tight is the only thing he tries to focus on. He closes his eyes as Dean carefully lays him onto the cool grass, simultaneously scanning the sea of people and cars in search of an ambulance.

"Shit," Dean curses. "Just… Just hold on a little longer, okay?"

Castiel groans. "They're not here yet?"

"They're coming, Cas. Don't worry. They're gonna fix you up. You're gonna be fine," Dean turns to a couple of police officers stepping out of their car. "Can we get some help over here?!"

"No," Castiel grabs his arm. "Don't, Dean... I just want to be with you."

"But, Cas -"

" _Please_ , Dean. Just do this for me."

Dean hesitates for a moment, but then the lines in his face even out, and he goes back to pressing down on the wound. "Okay, Cas."

"How did you find me?"

"We, uh… We tried looking for your aunt first, but… I dunno, she's good at hiding. So we found your mom in hospital, asked if she knew any Lilith White. She recognised the name."

Castiel licks his lips, tastes blood, and tries to sit up. The pain that rips through his wound is enough to bring tears springing to his eyes.

"Don't move," Dean guides him back down, hand firm on his shoulder. "You've gotta keep still, so the blood won't… I mean, so you don't strain yourself. It'll feel better lying down, I promise."

"Okay," Castiel squeezes his eyes shut, willing the fire in his stomach to cool down for a moment. "What did you say to my mother?"

"We just told her you were missing."

"Does she… Does she know?"

Dean cups one side of his face, grimacing at the cool sweat clinging to his skin, and shrugs. "I told her I was your boyfriend, so… I'm guessin' she's caught on. Is that okay?"

"Was she mad?"

"She was _worried_ , Cas. She couldn't give a fuck about us."

Something flutters deep down in his chest. He always assumed that his mom would be like the rest of them, that she'd shun him for being gay if she ever found out. Sometimes he thought maybe she _did_ know, and that was the reason she tried to kill herself. But finally hearing the truth - that she's worried about him, that she doesn't care who he's dating - makes him happier than he ever expected to be right now. Practically everybody knows the truth, and most of them still love him regardless. Knowing that his mom supports him makes the urge to live even stronger, forcing him back into a sitting position.

"Cas, you need to stay down."

"Where's Anna?"

Dean's throat ripples. "We… We're doin' everything we can to find her. The police have been searching for days. I'm sure she's fine, Cas."

He tries not to picture his sister locked away in some shed in the middle of nowhere, crying out for help, but the thought of her being in danger still makes him shudder. New tears roll down his face, mixing with the blood and sweat staining his flesh. If he could trade places with her (minus the stab wound of course) he'd do it in a heartbeat. All he's ever wanted was to protect his little sister from the horrors he's had to endure for the vast majority of his life. But he couldn't even do that one job right.

"My… My uncle… Lilith said he was coming. Where is he -"

"Shh, don't worry. He's not here, I swear."

"But -"

"I'm not gonna let him take you away," Dean kisses the end of his nose, eyelashes stuck together with tears. "Never again, I promise. He's not gonna lay a fuckin' hand on you ever again."

Castiel smiles up at him, reaching out to touch his face.

"I love you so much," He whispers. "And I… I trust you. You'll find Anna, I know you will. And you'll look after her for me, won't you?"

Dean bites back a sob, shaking his head as Castiel gently holds his chin in place.

"I can't… I can't lose you," Dean whimpers. "Fuck, Cas, I _can't_ lose you! I'll be a mess. I won't -"

"You'll be fine."

"No, I won't. You _know_ I won't."

"You're stronger than you give yourself credit for," He smiles again, this one drooping with the effort not to wince at the pain eating away at his stomach. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Dean sniffs. "Quit it with sappy, goodbye crap, will ya? You're not goin' anywhere. Not on my watch."

"You can't control this."

"But… But I _love_ you. Isn't that enough?!"

Castiel moans through another wave of pain, desperately clutching at Dean's hand. He never wants to let go. He wants to hold onto this boy forever. He wants to grow old with him. He wants to get married, have children, buy a house, argue over stupid little things, eat breakfast in bed, have sex whenever the kids are out, watch bad television at three o'clock in the morning, cook dinner together, build a sun house, go on holidays they can't afford, buy stupid gifts for each other without needing a reason, renew their vows when they get older, watch their kids grow into wonderful people with families of their own, retire at a ripe old age, spend the weekdays planting flowers and taking walks through the forest, spend their last days by each other's side, promise to love and protect each other for as long as they both may live… We wants it more than anything, but that chance to spend his life with Dean is quickly fading away, along with his own breath.

"Stay with me," Dean holds his head against his shoulder, peppering kisses all over his face as another pain-wrangled cry escapes his lips. "Just hold on, baby. I've got you. You're okay. I'm here."

Castiel muffles a groan in the warmth of Dean's jacket. "No more blood… Please, Dean. No more…"

"Okay. No more blood. No more blood, I promise."

"Will you stay me, please?"

Dean closes his eyes for a moment, takes a shaky breath, and kisses the corner of his mouth. It's so gentle, Castiel can barely feel it, but the warmth unfurling in his chest is enough to make him smile.

"I'll never leave you."

The last thing he remembers is the distant flashing of red and blue lights heading their way. There are people shouting, doors being slammed, the sound of wheels bumping over the gravel. But all he cares about is the smoky scent of woodchips and gasoline clinging to Dean's jacket, tickling his nostrils as the darkness finally comes, and everything turns to black.


	26. Chapter 26

**Sorry for the lateness of this chapter! Plus, I haven't had a chance to proof-read it yet, so there's bound to be plenty of errors... My apologies! Anyway. I hope this chapter makes up for all the pain I've put you through lately. Please leave a review if you can! Thanks, guys**

* * *

When he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is Dean. The other boy is fast asleep with his head lying at an awkward angle on the edge of the bed, sunlight streaming through the window turning his messy hair a coppery shade of brown. His butt is _this_ close to slipping off the chair he's sitting on, and his hand is loosely gripping Castiel's as he snores softly against the mattress. He's half tempted to wake him up, but a part of him is worried that if he opens his mouth, Dean will somehow disappear. Maybe this is all a dream, or maybe he didn't even make it to the hospital, and this is what heaven looks like. It wouldn't surprise him if Dean was the centre of his heaven, as sappy as that may sound. He's the only thing that's kept him going these past few days.

He forces himself to tear his eyes away for a moment. If he stares too long at Dean, the memories of that night will coming rushing back, and he's not sure he can take that right now. The room he's in is small and square, with cream walls and yellow curtains giving it a warm, homely feeling. His head is propped up against a firm yet comfortable pillow, cool sheets wrapping his body from the waist down. He can see the bandage covering the right side of his stomach peeking out beneath his gown, starbursts of blood thickly hidden with layers of gauze. If he moves his body - even just slightly - a terrible pain rips through the wounded flesh where Lilith plunged the knife in deep. He imagines the doctors have drugged him up on God knows what, but the numbing sense of relief that edges out the pain isn't strong enough to keep him from groaning in discomfort.

Beside him, Dean stirs. His plump lips smack together as his eyes blink open, taking a moment to focus on Castiel's face before turning round and wide with shock.

"Cas?!" He almost falls off the chair from sitting up so fast, but Castiel doesn't have the strength to laugh right now. Even if he did, he's too mesmerised by the forest green of Dean's eyes, and the way his freckles lift together as a smile tugs at his lips. His voice sounds groggy - like he hasn't slept properly in days - but the blinding grin splitting his cheeks reminds Castiel of the happy, carefree boy he fell in love with.

"How long… How long have I -"

"A couple days," Dean swallows thickly. "Uh, here! Have some water."

Castiel leans forward (despite the pains of protest screaming in his stomach) and takes ginger sips from the plastic cup Dean presses against his lips. He didn't realize how thirsty he was until the cool water hits the back of his throat, and then he can't seem to stop drinking.

"Steady on," Dean chuckles as water dribbles down his chin. "Don't want you chokin' on me now."

Castiel smiles sheepishly. "Sorry. Just thirsty."

"I bet. I'm guessin' you haven't had a real drink in weeks, huh?"

"Not really, no."

"Well, you're safe now," Dean puts the cup aside, then brushes his knuckles against Castiel's cheek. There are tears brimming in his eyes, but his smile is unwavering. "You have no frickin' idea how good it feels to say that."

"It feels good to _hear_ it."

Dean huffs a watery laugh, a stray tear rolling down his face. Castiel wishes he could wipe it away, but all he can do right now is lean into the warm roughness of Dean's palm.

"I didn't know if you were gonna… I-I mean, the doctors said you probably _would_ , but I didn't know… I didn't -"

"Shh," He smiles again, voice breaking from the lump of tears lodged in his throat. "It's okay, Dean. I'm alive. You came back for me."

"I should've found you sooner."

"You did the best you could. I _know_ you did."

Dean shakes his head and sniffs, eyes red-rimmed as the tears spill over his cheeks.

"I thought I'd lost you for good this time," He croaks. "I've never been so fuckin' scared in my whole life."

"I'm sorry for making you worry."

"Don't gimme that crap, Cas. This ain't your fault."

"I shouldn't have let Zachariah take me away. It was stupid of me."

"He blackmailed you."

"I was _weak_."

"Hey," Dean cups the other side of his face and holds his gaze, something feral flashing in his eyes. "Don't you ever say that again, ya hear me? You're the strongest person I've ever met. I mean, you… You're incredible, Cas."

"You're just exaggerating," He says, smiling despite himself.

Dean shakes his head again, sending little flecks of tears flying through the air. "You've been treated like crap since you were a _kid_ … You've have to deal with that bastard uncle of yours for _how_ long? But you're still… You're still fightin' the good fight, Cas, and that's frickin' amazin'. So drop the modest crap for once and give yourself some credit. You're somethin' special, okay?"

His heart clenches at the sincerity in Dean's words. He genuinely believes that Castiel is special, that he's stronger than most people, that he _matters_. This time last year, the idea of someone caring this much about him - to the point where they'd put up with his childhood traumas, look past the ugly scars on his back, search for weeks without stopping to bring him back home, and sleep by his side until he woke up - would've felt like nothing more than a farfetched dream. But it's reality now. Dean has come into his life and changed his perspective on so many things. He actually feels worthy now, like maybe he deserves to be loved this much. Dean may call _him_ the special one, but Castiel knows who really merits the praise for making this work.

"I love you," He whispers against Dean's palm. "I've never loved anything like this before."

Dean brushes his lips against the tips of Castiel's fingers. "I really wanna kiss you right now, but you could probably use the oxygen."

A laugh splutters out of his chest, quickly dissolving into a series of coughs that rack his body with pain. He tries sitting up, but the burning sting of his wounds promptly knocks him back down. It's a struggle to fight the wave of nausea washing over his senses, but the weight of Dean's hand gripping his elbow keeps him grounded long enough to catch his breath.

"Woah. Okay, okay," Dean squeezes his hand and adjusts his pillow, brushing the sweat slick hair out of his face. "I'm gonna go fetch a nurse, alright?"

"No," Castiel grabs his arm as he stands to leave. "I'm… I'm fine. Just stay here. Don't leave me, please."

Dean's throat ripples, eyes flitting between him and the door.

"Five minutes," He gives him a warning look. "Then I'm gettin' someone."

"Okay."

"And you're gonna let them help you."

" _Okay_."

"I'm just sayin'."

Castiel threads their fingers together, smiling weakly at the grumpy expression on his boyfriend's face. "You're worried about me."

"You're fuckin' right, I'm worried! You just got _stabbed_ , Cas."

"I know," His smiles fades away at the memory of Lilith's bony fingers wrapped around his wrists, holding him tight as the knife sliced through his flesh. "I'm sorry, Dean. I shouldn't joke about it like that. I guess it just makes it easier to deal with."

Dean takes his other hand with a sigh. "You don't… You don't have to _explain_ yourself to me, Cas. I've just been freakin' out these past couple days, not knowing if you were gonna… I'm bein' a jerk, I know."

"You're not being a jerk. I like that you're worried. It shows me that you care."

"A whole lotta people care about you."

"Just not my family, right?"

"Hey. _We're_ your family, Cas. Me 'n all the guys at Opal Grove. _We're_ the ones who care."

Castiel slowly sits up (being careful not to shift his hips too much, in case the stiches on his stomach rip). It's no question that Dean and his friends are his real family, but it still hurts to know that the man who practically raised him was willing to torture the gay out of him. He did everything he could to be a worthy nephew, but trying to hide who he really is proved to be harder than he'd hoped. He still can't believe that he was ready to live that lie for the rest of the life, to leave Dean behind and deny his true self. If he hadn't found love in this crazy, messed up world, God knows where he'd be right now.

"What about Anna?" He asks in a whisper, unable to look Dean in the eye for fear of finding any ounce of grief or sympathy staring back at him. "Is she… I-I mean, did you find her?"

"Not yet. But the police are still searching."

"You mean my aunt still has her?"

"Cas -"

"I need to go," He twists his body away from Dean, whimpering at the pain that shoots down his right side. "I need to find her, before anything happens."

"Like hell you do!"

"You don't understand."

Dean rushes around the bed, grabbing his shoulders and holding him back before his feet can touch the floor. His eyes are scarily wide, as if he's trying to hypnotise him into staying, but Castiel can also feel the tremble in his touch. There's no way he's going to let him leave this room, not when he's still recovering and can barely walk. Of course it makes sense, but that doesn't stop him from glaring at Dean until his anger slowly trickles away. It's not fair to blame Dean for protecting him, not when this is all Zachariah's fault.

"I get that you're worried about her," Dean murmurs, gently petting his face and sweeping a thumb over his knuckles. "If Sam was gone, I know I'd do the same thing. But you're not gonna help Anna by hurtin' yourself even more. We've gotta trust the professionals with this one, man."

"But what if she's in danger?"

"They're gonna find her."

"But what -"

"You've gotta think about your damn self for once," Dean shakes his head, shoulders sagging as he sits on the edge of the bed. "Can you do that for me? Just let yourself get better for a few days?"

Castiel presses his lips together. The very thought of abandoning his sister makes him feel rotten to the core, but he knows that Dean's right. It wouldn't make sense to go running off looking for her without any strength. He needs to get better before anything else.

"Okay," He swallows thickly. "I'll stay here."

Dean nods his head, smiling softly as he kisses Castiel's knuckles. "Thank you."

"But you can't keep me in the dark, Dean. As soon as you hear anything, you _need_ to tell me."

"Of course, you idiot. I'm not a complete asshole, ya know."

"I know, it's just… I don't want people to think of me as _fragile_ now. I can take the truth. Even if… Even if it's not what I want to hear."

"What did I just tell you? You're stronger than any of us, Cas. No one thinks you're fragile."

Castiel sighs. "And Lilith... Where is she?"

"Behind bars, I hope."

"They arrested her on site?"

"Well, yeah," Dean wrinkles his nose. "She was keepin' a bunch of kids in _cages_. Half of them weren't even dressed properly. There was no way she was gettin' outta there a free woman."

Castiel allows himself a smile. Lilith spending the rest of her life in jail is never going to make up for what she did to him - or any of the kids who suffered in that godawful place - but at least she can't hurt anyone else now. A part of him was worried that maybe the police would take her side, that they'd agree with her bigoted opinions on how people like him should be treated. It's a relief to know that not everyone shares the same disgust as she does. Maybe it _is_ possible for him and Dean to be together without constantly looking over their shoulders.

"And my uncle?"

Dean squeezes his hand again, cupping one side of his face as he shifts closer on the bed. "That bastard ain't gettin' anywhere _near_ you, Cas. I promise you that."

"You mean he's still out there?"

"Not for long."

Castiel bites his bottom lip to keep it from trembling. "I'm not afraid of him."

"It's okay to be scared, Cas. No one's gonna blame you for that."

"But being afraid… It's like letting him win."

"No, it's like bein' _human_."

Castiel huffs a laugh, covering Dean's hand with his own. He appreciates the effort to keep him calm. He knows that Dean isn't one for talking about his feelings, but he always knows how to make him feel better. He still can't believe his luck in finding someone as amazing as Dean Winchester.

"It's been five minutes," He says with a sigh. "You should go get that nurse before I bleed out."

Dean snorts. "You're such an ass."

"Yeah, but you still love me."

"Way to take advantage of a guy's emotions, Cas."

"My sincerest apologies."

"Oh, yeah. You _really_ sound sincere," Dean shakes his head and grins, kissing his knuckles one last time before slipping off the bed. "Don't go anywhere."

"Very funny."

"I'm hilarious, I know."

Castiel watches his boyfriend leave with a no doubt sappy-looking smile on his face. Even when his life is set against a backdrop of misery - his friend dead, his sister missing, his uncle on the run - nothing ever seems so bad when he's got Dean by his side. He'd never say this out loud (Dean would probably tell him to stop being such a chick), but Dean is like the sun on a rainy day. He's not great with analogies, but that's honestly the best way to sum it up. As long as he has Dean in his life, there will always be a smidgen of hope.

* * *

Once the nurse has changed his bandages, Dean helps him to the bathroom to clean himself up. It feels good to scrub away the memories of that place still embedded into his skin, especially when it's Dean's hand guiding the sponge over his sensitive flesh. He likes having Dean so close again; it makes him feel safe. And he doesn't seem to care about the extra scars on his back now, despite Castiel's worries that he'd find them repulsive. It's still hard getting used to the fact that Dean loves him too much to give a damn about the way he looks.

The rest of the day is consumed by random visits from random people. Dean adopts the role of his bodyguard, reminding everyone who walks through the door not to talk too loud or to get too close. Castiel finds it cute how overprotective he's being, but he honestly appreciates the extra company. The hustle and bustle of people passing through is so different to the quiet emptiness of his cell. It's _refreshing_ to hear that faint ringing in his ears when everyone starts speaking at the same time, even if the noise is starting to make his head ache a little bit.

He can sense Dean getting more and more frustrated as the hours go by, anxiously squeezing Castiel's hand every time someone new comes through the door. He can hardly blame him for his jumpiness though; he knows what it's like to see someone you love bleeding out in your arms.

Dean's still hovering by his bedside when Charlie and Gabe come to visit, with Kevin and Jo following close behind. He can hardly believe his eyes when they both come creeping through the door, smiling at the look of shock on everyone's faces. Charlie doesn't say a word before jumping into Jo's arms; she hasn't seen her girlfriend in person since Kevin's birthday party, so Castiel can only imagine how relieved she must be feeling. He could barely stand a couple of weeks apart from Dean, let alone a couple of _months_.

"Mary called my mom," Jo explains once Charlie has finally let go of her. "We came as soon as we could, picked Kevin up on the way. We just had to see you."

Castiel smiles. "That means a lot, thank you."

"And we brought you come crappy magazines. Ya know, so you don't die of boredom."

"It's not _that_ bad here. I have Dean."

Gabe gags at the sentiment. "It's nice to see you two aren't any less disgusting around each other."

"Ah, you're just jealous," Dean rolls his eyes. "You still pinin' over Sammy? Or have you moved on to Cas' twelve year old sister now?"

"Bite me, Winchester."

"You couldn't payme to do that."

Castiel touches Dean's arm with a placating smile. "Will you two give it a rest?"

"Yeah, guys. Maybe we should listen to the stab victim here."

"Damn, Jo. _Subtle_."

"Subtlety's not really my style."

Charlie puts a hand on Jo's shoulder, effectively squeezing in between her and Gabe so she's closest to the bed. "Okay… How about I fill Cas in on all the drama he's missed?"

"Drama?"

"Mhm. Things kinda carried on as normal while you were gone."

Castiel scoffs. "They must really care."

"Well, I mean, _Gabe_ and I were freaking out! But the rest of the guys just… Well, they didn't really say much about it. Garth asked after you, but that's about it. They were too busy gossiping about Michael and Ruby."

Jo shakes her head. "Ugh. Don't tell me _those_ two are together now."

"Sorry, babe. That's a bit of a sore spot with you."

"I'm over that dickwad."

"I thought Meg was sleeping with Michael?"

"Oh, that finished _ages_ ago."

Dean elbows him in the shoulder. "Hey. That means you've got another chance with her."

"Shut up."

"I'm just sayin'! The girl's got a thing for you."

"Yes, well. I've promised myself to an _assbutt_ for some reason."

Dean chuckles. "I'm up for a three-way."

"Do you _want_ to be broken up?"

"No, sir."

"Then stop talking."

Charlie sighs dreamily. "You two are like an old married couple already… That's so adorable."

"It's nauseating."

"Can it, Gabe!"

"My mom baked you an apple crumble," Kevin finally speaks up, squeezing his way through the crowd to hand Dean a foil tin with crust spilling over the sides. "I know hospital food's not meant to be very, um… _appetising_. So I thought you might like something edible."

Castiel takes a sniff of the delicious-smelling dessert, then gives his friend a warm smile.

"Thank you, Kevin," He nods his head. "It's really good to see you again."

"You too. I would've visited, but… My mom doesn't want me going back to Opal Grove. She thinks it will trigger some post-traumatic stress or something."

That comment sparks a laugh out of everyone. It's rare to hear Kevin cracking jokes, but his deadpan expression makes it all the more hilarious. It's not long before they're all bent over, practically wheezing with laughter. Maybe it's the drugs still circulating his system, or the relief of finally getting out, or simply the absurdity of the entire situation, but he just can't seem to stop himself. Even when Dean pats his back as the coughing starts again, he's still chuckling like an idiot. It's the best he's felt in weeks. He never imagined that he'd be surrounded by his friends ever again, but here they are! The pure joy swirling in his chest is indescribable.

But the moment is soon cut short by a knock at the door.

Castiel freezes when he sees the police officers standing in the doorway, clad in black suits with matching looks of grimness. The sound of their heavy boots hitting the floor takes him back to that cold cell, where every sound was amplified down the long tunnels leading into the darkness.

He reaches for Dean's hand without even thinking, squeezing hard to remind himself that he's not there anymore, that he's safe in the hospital with Dean by his side. But he still can't erase the similarities from his mind - the dark suits, the hard expressions, the heavy silence weighing him down with every passing second. It's like he's been transported back to that first day, with Lilith's guards creeping towards him like predators in the night, ready to snatch him away.

"Castiel Milton?" The female officer approaches his bed with the smallest of smiles. "Do you think you're fit to answer a few questions for us?"

"It's Novak," Dean corrects her with a growl. "He's got nothin' to do with the Miltons."

"I'm just reading what's on the -"

"Well, it's wrong. Cas ain't a part of that family anymore. He's a _Novak_."

Castiel tightens his grip on Dean's hand. "It's okay, Dean. She's just doing her job. She didn't know any better."

"Your file says Milton. Apparently it was changed just over three years ago?"

"My uncle gained official custody after my mom was committed."

"And your uncle is Zachariah Milton?"

"That's right."

"But you prefer to go by your father's name?"

"It's _my_ name. I don't even know my dad. I just know I'd rather be a Novak than a Milton."

The officer presses her lips together. "My apologies, Mr Novak. I can't even begin to imagine what you must be going through right now."

"What do you want to ask me about?"

The woman casts her eyes around the room, then glances back at her partner. "We'd like to ask your friends to step outside before we question you. Only if you're comfortable, of course."

Castiel's stomach churns at the idea of being alone with these strangers. He keeps thinking one of them is going to lunge at him at any moment, sharp blade in position to finish what Lilith started. It would make sense that there were more of them out there, mindless slaves of Lilith's who escaped before the police arrived. They could be skulking down the halls as they speak, biding their time to strike. It kills him to think that maybe this isn't over yet, that he's not completely safe until all traces of Lilith have been destroyed.

"I'd like my boyfriend to stay." He swallows roughly, glancing up at Dean with wide eyes. "Please don't leave me alone with these people."

Dean kisses the top of his head with a sigh. "I'm not goin' anywhere, baby."

"We'll come back once it's over," Charlie smiles softly, ruffling his hair before dragging the rest of them out of the room. "See you in a few, peeps!"

Castiel can barely manage a smile in return; he's too busy trying to fight the looming wave of fear ready to crash over and consume him. He holds onto Dean's hand with all the strength he can muster, willing his breathes to slow down before he has another attack. He knew this was coming at some point, that he'd eventually have to relive those weeks for the sake of the case against Lilith. The charges against her are pretty airtight without his contribution, but he's willing to do everything within his power to assure that that monster never sees daylight again. Even if the memories of that place make him sick to his stomach with dread.

"What do you want to know?"

It's the woman who speaks again, using a condescendingly gentle tone of voice as she inches closer to the bed. "We just want to get a clear picture of your experience, Mr Novak. The accusations against Mrs White are extremely severe as it is, but if there's any extra information you can provide us with, it will be a great help."

"So… You just want me to tell you what happened?"

"You can do this any way you like. Start from the beginning, if you prefer. Do you remember arriving at the building on your first day?"

Castiel clears his throat, gripping Dean's hand even tighter as he thinks back to the very start. It's all so foggy; he can barely remember getting stabbed, let alone his first day. But the look of reassurance in Dean's eyes snaps him out of his daze, giving him the courage to push through his fear for just a moment. If he focusses really hard, he can almost picture the room he shared with Dorothy - cobwebs and all.

"They drugged us," He croaks, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. "I don't remember how we got there. I woke up in my cell, and that was it. I had to throw up a few times before the drugs wore off… My stomach was hurting for a few hours, but Dorothy - my cellmate - she said it was normal."

"And when did you first see Mrs White?"

"She came to collect us not long after I woke up. She gave us breakfast, told us to get ready for morning sessions. Her guards lead the way."

"What did these sessions entail?"

"Um… They differed from day to day, but some things never changed. They'd make us watch the same video every time. It was this anti-gay nonsense, something about restoring the world to its natural order… And then they would, um… They'd separate the girls from the boys and... Well, after the video, we'd go into this other room. It was small, _confined_. We had to take this pill before we started. I'm not sure what it was exactly, but it made everyone sick. Physically sick, that is."

"And what was the purpose of that?"

"They were trying to manipulate us, tricking our bodies into thinking that homosexuality is a sickness. Lilith would pick on someone new every day and make them stand at the front of the room, and then… Then she'd make them… Sh-She would tell them to, um… To take their clothes off."

Dean squeezes his hand tightly, gritting his teeth as a tear rolls down his cheek.

"Once they were… _naked_. She'd make them do certain things - turn around, bend over… The drugs would kick in, everyone would start being sick… It was chaos."

"Did she ever make you stand at the front?"

Castiel can hardly look Dean in the eye, but he does so instinctively. His face is burning with shame, the memory of standing in front of everyone - completely exposed - making him shudder. But Dean doesn't look disgusted or ashamed; there's pride shining in his eyes, urging him to stay strong, to keeping going.

"Yes," He finally whispers. "She made me take off my clothes… But then we got into a fight. She wanted to wash my boyfriend's shirt, but… but it still _smelt_ of him, you know? It was the only thing I had. So I told her to give it back, and she got angry, and then… Well, she started hitting me. _A lot_. The guards, they… Lilith told them to give me twenty lashes to teach me a lesson. They used some kind of stick, I don't know… And then someone was kicking me in the stomach, and I couldn't breathe… All I could smell was blood and vomit. I think I was passing out."

"Was there a doctor there?"

"No. Lilith would just throw you back in your cell when she was done with you."

"Did she physically harm you in any other way? Your medical examination reports traces of burns on your body, mainly the facial region."

Castiel sniffs back the tears and nods. "Yes. She, um… She used shock therapy on me. I was taken to a different part of the building for bad behaviour. She said it was where the 'extreme cases' were kept. Just before I was rescued, Lilith was electrocuting me."

"Sonofabitch," Dean scrubs a hand over his face. "Uh, sorry… I'll shut up."

"You said you were there for bad behaviour?"

"After I was beaten over the shirt incident, Dorothy told me there was a way out. She'd made a hole in the back of the bathroom closet. It lead to the main floor, where Lilith's office was. We came up with a plan to use her phone while she was busy. I was going to call the police, but Dorothy said it was pointless. She wanted me to phone Dean instead, so I'd have enough fight to keep going."

"Did you make the call?"

"Yes. I tried to find some kind of clue in her office, so Dean would have some idea where we were… All I could find was her full name. But it was enough."

"I don't remember a call being reported…"

"That's 'cause I never told the cops," Dean says with an awkward shrug of his shoulder. "I was worried you guys wouldn't treat him right… His douche nozzle of an uncle has connections everywhere. We couldn't trust anyone."

"Sir, you do realize that withholding information is punishable by jail time, yes?"

"Don't blame him," Castiel pleads. "My uncle's negotiated with the police before… They completely overlooked his ongoing abuse for almost five years. Dean was right not to call them. He found a lead on Lilith all by himself, and _he_ was the one who saved me. How can you punish him for that?"

The officers share a look, then shake their heads.

"What happened after the call took place?"

"Lilith caught us using the phone."

"How did she react?"

Castiel glances up at Dean, soaking in the look of encouragement on his face, then takes a shaky breath.

"She hardly touched me at all. She blamed Dorothy for what happened. My uncle paid her extra for something… I suppose that's why she was easy on me," The salty tang of tears wets his lips as he retells that night in as much clarity as possible. "Dorothy was already in a bad way; she liked to provoke Lilith on purpose, so she wouldn't have to attend sessions. She spent most of the time healing in bed. She was too weak to take much more… But Lilith didn't care about that. She was _brutal_. She kept hitting her and _hitting_ her… There was nothing I could do. I was hopeless. I just stood there while they beat her to a bloody pulp."

Dean squeezes his shoulder. "It's not your fault, Cas. She hurt you as well."

"But she died in my arms," He whimpers, tears gushing down his face as he remembers shaking his friend the next morning, expecting her eyes to open. "I couldn't… I-I couldn't help her! I was too weak. I was a _coward_."

"That's not true."

"If I'd have stepped in, maybe she'd still be alive."

"Yeah, and maybe you wouldn't be."

"But I -"

"You did the best you could, Cas. You were braver than I would've been, that's for sure."

"She protected me there. I should've done the same thing for her!"

Dean shoots the officers a glare. "You dicks happy now? Is making the victim blame themselves part of the job description, huh?"

"I'm terribly sorry -"

"Just save it, will ya? Interrogation's over."

Castiel doesn't even notice them leaving; he's too distracted by the smell of Dean's flannel shirt pressed against his cheek, slowly turning damp with his tears. He tries to calm himself down, focussing on the steady rise and fall of Dean's chest, but everything seems to be spinning. He's trapped in that moment - Dorothy coughing up blood as they beat her senselessly on the floor - in an infinite loop. His mind keeps telling him all the possible things he could've done to save her, but was too cowardly to even attempt. Even the warmth of Dean's arms holding him against his chest isn't enough to soothe the burning guilt eating away at him.

"I'll never get over this, will I?"

Dean tilts Castiel's head back, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes, and smiles. It's a pained kind of smile, but it's still brimming with love and respect. Castiel can feel it buzzing against his skin as Dean presses his lips against his cheek, slowly mapping his face before touching their mouths together.

"You're stronger than you give yourself credit for," Dean whispers, repeating Castiel's words from the other night.

And so Dean holds him - fingers in his hair, with Castiel's face burrowed in Dean's shirt - until the tears finally stop falling. He's sick of crying now; he's done more of it these past few months than he did during his entire childhood, despite all the abuse he had to suffer. Maybe it means he's weaker now, or maybe he's stopped caring about the way people see him. But even if he spends the rest of his life bawling over the things he should or shouldn't have done, at least he has someone to wipe away his tears. At least he can break down in front of Dean without feeling ashamed of his grief. That's all he needs right now - someone who will love and support him unconditionally. He just can't believe he's lucky enough to actually have it.

* * *

Dean insists on staying the night again, despite Castiel's urges to go home and get some proper rest. He sits in the chair by Castiel's bed, feeding him spoonfuls of jello as he reads aloud from the 'crappy magazines' that Jo brought him. He doesn't really care about Suzan's 'miraculous 90 lbs weight loss routine', but the way Dean reads the story with such enthusiasm is enough to make him chuckle. He's content just watching his boyfriend make a fool of himself from the comfort of his bed, eyelids slowly drooping as the hours tick by.

Luke stops by just before visiting hours are over. Castiel's busy listening to the story of how Sam chipped a tooth on one of Dean's baking disasters when they were little; he doesn't even realize that his brother has slipped inside and taken a seat until Dean pointedly clears his throat and nods in his direction. Castiel's not quite sure how to react to the sight of Luke sitting beside him, looking both guilty and relieved at the same time. The last real conversation they had was more of an argument, with the truth of Luke's identity coming out just moments before Zachariah dragged him away. He can't help but feel like things are going to be awkward between them now.

"I'm gonna go get some coffee," Dean says, leaning over to kiss Castiel's forehead before standing to leave. "Be right back."

Castiel watches him go with a smile, then turns back to Luke. There's a long stretch of silence in which they both just stare at each other, neither quite sure what to do or say to break the tension in the room. It's Luke who eventually opens his mouth first.

"I'm glad you're okay," He says stiffly. "You, uh… You look good. Are the drugs working?"

"Well, I can't really feel my toes, so I presume so."

Luke huffs a laugh as he fiddles with the zip on his jacket. "So, about you know what... How do you feel about that? You still angry with me for lying?"

"I was never angry with you, Luke. I was _hurt_. You deliberately cut me out of your life over some petty feud between our families."

"It was a rash decision, I know. But I was hurting too, Cassy."

"Our dad hurt us _both_. Maybe not in the same way, but still. We shouldn't be blaming each other for it."

"You're right."

"And before you ask… Yes. I _do_ forgive you."

Luke lifts his head in surprise. "You mean you actually want to be brothers?"

"We _are_ brothers. There's no avoiding that. But even if I had the choice, I'd still want to get to know you. And so would Anna. We're _family_ , Luke."

"Even after all the crap I put you through at Opal Grove?"

"Believe it or not, I never disliked you. I just thought you were odd."

"Charming."

Castiel chuckles. "So… Brothers?"

"Sure, Novak. _Brothers_."

They're in the process of shaking hands when another figure steps through the door. Castiel instantly freezes at the large, bulbous shape of the man, clad in a grey suit with thinning hair and eyes like balls of lead. It's enough to set his heart racing as the figure comes closer, lips twitching with fury as his shoes clink against the hardwood floor. It's only when Luke notices the look of pure fear in Castiel's eyes that he finally turns around.

"Zachariah?" He spits. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

"I've come to see my nephew, Lucas. Now step aside before I crush you like the worthless bug you are."

Luke doesn't hesitate before grabbing Zachariah by the arms and shoving him up against the wall. His strength obviously comes as a surprise to his uncle, whose eyes are wide with shock as Luke leans into his space.

"Come any closer, and I swear I'll rip your throat out with my teeth."

Zachariah grunts. "I just came to find the whereabouts of my dear old niece. It would seem she's gone missing from my sister's care, and I'd like to retrieve her as promptly as possible."

"What do you mean she's missing?" Castiel frowns. "I thought she was with Naomi!"

"Yes, well. The little brat escaped a few days ago, and it's no great mystery where she must have gone."

"She's not _here_ if that's what you're implying!"

Something wild flashes in Zachariah's eyes, and then he's breaking out of Luke's hold and lunging towards Castiel. He doesn't feel much beyond the sharp sting of nails dragging across his arm, clinging desperately to the tattered flesh as Luke drags him back again. A warm trickle of blood runs down to his elbow, staining the white sheets with an expanding circle of deep crimson.

"If you start feeding the police with your putrid lies, I will personally hunt Anna down and finish the job myself!"

"You won't touch her," Castiel snarls. "Or I will make your life a living hell!"

"And how does a pathetic fag like you expect to do that?!"

"I know things about you that even your buddies would frown upon, so _don't_ underestimate my ability to drag you through the mud!"

Before Zachariah can respond, Dean comes rushing in with a cup of coffee in his hand. He takes one look at Zachariah, stuffs the cup into the nearest bin, and then hurries to Castiel's side. The solid warmth of his hands cupping his face calms him down a little bit, but his eyes are still fixed on his uncle's murderous glare.

"You okay?" Dean asks him hurriedly. "Did he hurt you? Did he _threaten_ you? What did he say?"

Castiel swallows thickly. "I-I don't… He said Anna was missing."

"What? No, Cas. Don't worry about that."

"I'm going to put every last one of you dirty sinners out of your misery, so help me God!"

Dean doesn't even get the chance to respond to Zachariah's slurs before Luke is punching him in the face, his knuckles crunching against Zachariah's nose as blood splatters his shirt. But he doesn't stop there; he lifts him up by his collar and punches him again, then once more in the stomach, then slams his head against Zachariah's, effectively smacking the older man's skull against the wall. Castiel doesn't hear much besides a groan of pain weaseling its way out his uncle's lips, and then Luke is raising his fist for another punch.

"Stop him," He begs Dean. "He's going to get himself arrested!"

Dean manages to grab Luke's arm before he delivers another blow, pushing him aside and switching roles. He holds an arm against Zachariah's chest, keeping him in place, and shakes him to get his attention. There's a small blood stain on the wall behind his head, but he doesn't appear to be seriously injured.

"You're one _stupid_ sonofabitch," Dean sneers. "The cops are still here, ya know? And I'm pretty sure they're not gonna let this little disruption pass by without a look in."

As if on cue, a couple of officers come busting in, surveying the situation with a frown before separating Dean and Zachariah with a forceful shove. It doesn't take much to explain what's going on though; when you've got a teenage boy lying in a hospital bed, how can you _not_ believe his side of the story? That, and Zachariah has 'guilty' written all over his face. He visibly flinches when the officers take his wrists and hold them behind his back, cuffing his hands tightly despite his protests. It's a bittersweet moment for Castiel, seeing his uncle being dragged away by the cops. He's a man who's always considered himself immune to the law, so to watch his confidence in the system quickly crumble is nothing short of hilarious in Castiel's opinion.

"I'm gonna go find something for my hand," Luke grumbles.

Dean doesn't even respond, just goes back to cupping Castiel's face and anxiously asking him if he's okay. There are four red lines running down his arm, but other than that, he's fine. He's more worried about Anna. She could be anywhere right now! Where are they even supposed to _start_ looking?

"I need to find Anna," He says, fighting against Dean's hold to get out of bed. "I need to make sure she's safe!"

"Listen to me. Cas, hey! _Listen_ to me, baby -"

"No! She could be in trouble!"

"She's fine -"

"How do you know?!"

"Because my mom just called me!" Dean raises his voice above Castiel's cries. "Anna turned up at Opal Grove half an hour ago. She was looking for you, Cas. She's _fine_."

And in that moment, everything stops spinning.

"She… She what?"

Dean threads their fingers together with a smile, slowly laying him back against the bed. "She must have found the place all by herself. She's a smart kid, Cas. She didn't need anyone lookin' out for her. She's _strong_ , just like her stupid big brother."

"You mean… She's not… Naomi didn't -"

"She's doin' great. I _promise_."

Castiel doesn't know what to say. For a moment, he just sits there, staring blankly at the wall as everything starts to sink in. Lilith and Zachariah are both going to jail for a long time, and Anna is okay. _He's_ okay. Everything's going to be okay! Even with the fresh cuts on top of his stab wound, he can't help but reach forward and bring Dean into a bone-crushing hug. After weeks of emptiness and gloom, that light at the end of the tunnel is finally flickering into full view. There's actually _hope_ for the future now. For once in his life, he feels like he has nothing in the world to worry about.

"I can't believe it," He murmurs against Dean's cheek, peppering his face with kisses between smiles and laughs of disbelief. "It's over, isn't it? It's finally over."

Dean's expression is one of pure contentment as he brushes the hair out of Castiel's face, palming the back of his neck as he brings him in for a deep kiss that sends tiny thrills down his spine. They haven't kissed like this in weeks, but they both fall back into the rhythm effortlessly.

"Yeah, Cas," Dean smiles against his lips, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone. "It's finally over."


	27. Chapter 27

**We're _so_ close to the end now! Just a couple chapters (plus an epilogue) to go... I can't wait to give these characters the happy ending they deserve. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Please leave a review if you get the chance. Thank you! :) **

* * *

It's another five days before the doctors say he's fit to leave the hospital. Apparently the knife didn't leave any internal damage (it was just a flesh wound) but it still hurts to put pressure on the right side of his body. That's why he has the crutches to help him walk. He refused to use them at first, but then Bobby gave him a lecture on allowing himself time to heal, and he finally relented. He couldn't exactly say no to the only decent father figure in his life, could he? Plus, Bobby was right. He was rushing to get better in the hopes that the memories would disappear along with the wounds, but that's not how it works. All he can do is stay strong and try to move on at his own pace. It's not going to be easy, but when is anything ever easy?

Dean hasn't left his side since he woke up (apart from that one time Castiel convinced him to go home, have a shower, and get some proper rest). He's spent his time reading to Castiel, telling him stories, feeding him sugary foods, shaving his 'peach fuzz' every other morning, helping him wash the parts of his body he can't quite reach in the shower just yet… He's been amazing. Castiel's appreciated every little thing, but now he's glad to be finally getting out of here. It's about time they both return to some state of normalcy, away from all the hospital wards and police visits. He just wants to fall asleep in his own bed - in his own clothes - with Dean lying next to him.

Right now, he's slowly tying his shoelaces while Dean messes around with one of his crutches, hopping from one end of the room to the other. Bobby's signing his discharge papers at reception, and then they're good to go. Castiel can't wait to see Anna again; hearing her voice on the phone just isn't the same as talking in person. But she seems to enjoy living with the Winchesters, so at least there's that. It's a relief to know she's already settling in with his surrogate family; he'd hate for Anna to feel excluded from his new group of friends.

"Stop playing with my crutch, Dean," He says with a exasperated smile as Dean swings past him again. "You know I can't walk with just one."

"You didn't seem to mind me playin' with your crutch last night."

"Did you really just make a lewd joke about crutches?"

Dean waggles his eyebrows. "You know me, Cas. Anythin' to make you blush like that."

"I am _not_ blushing."

"Really? 'cause your face feels kinda hot," Dean crouches down beside his bed, cupping his face with a grin. "You might have a fever or somethin'… You want me to kiss it better?"

Castiel rolls his eyes fondly. "I'm not sure kissingis an effective form of treatment."

"You never seen a Disney movie, Cas? The right kiss can bring people back from the _dead_ and shit."

"I didn't take you for a Disney fan."

"Well, I'm not," Dean rubs the back of his neck. "I just, ya know… Sammy wanted to be a princess when he was younger. We watched The Little frickin' Mermaid ten times in a row!"

"Ah, that's it. Blame your little brother for your secret obsession."

"Shaddup."

"No, no… I think it's cute."

"Don't call me cute. I'm not _cute_ , alright? I'm a warrior."

Castiel bends down to kiss Dean's cheek, smiling against his stubbly beard. "That's a shame. I would've liked to see you in a dress sometime."

"Cas, you kinky bastard… I'm impressed."

"Well, I'm glad you approve," He chuckles, propping his leg onto Dean's knee. "Do you, uh… Do you mind? I'd do it myself, it's just… It still hurts when I bend too far forward, so -"

"Hey," Dean cuts him off with a shake of his head. "You don't have to ask, Cas. I'm here to help."

He watches glumly as Dean undoes the sloppy knot on his shoe and starts again, tightening the laces into a bow with ease. It's not that he's jealous that Dean can still tie his own shoes; he just hates asking people to assist him with the most simplest of things. He feels like an invalid, completely incapable and useless on all fronts. The one thing he's always relied on his independence, and now Lilith has taken that away from him. He knows it won't last forever, but it's still going to take some time to adjust.

"So… You excited to see Anna?"

Castiel perks up at the mention of his sister. "Yes. I just hope she doesn't resent me for not letting her visit."

"She'll understand, Cas. You didn't wanna upset her. But you're better now."

"I still can't walk without the crutches though."

"Doesn't mean you're _weak_. You've just gotta give yourself time to heal, like Bobby said."

"What did I say?"

Castiel turns to find Bobby standing in the doorway. He can't help but smile at the sight of him, shoulders relaxing slightly as Bobby slaps a few papers onto the bedside table. He catches the word 'discharge' at the top of the front page, and the bundle of nerves in his stomach instantly unravels. A part of him was worried that the hospital wouldn't let him go back to Opal Grove, that he'd be forced to live with another uncaring relative. But he should've had more faith in Bobby; he wouldn't let him go without a fight. It's strange how a man he's known for less than four months is more like a father to him than his own blood.

"Cas is just bein' an idiot," Dean waves him off. "He thinks he's weak for usin' the damn crutches."

"Not this again."

"I'm fine," Castiel shoots Dean a glare. "I'm just… I'm worried about Anna."

"I told you: she's _fine_. Her 'n Sammy are gettin' on like wildfire," Dean shrugs a shoulder. "Think they might have the hots for each other actually."

Castiel wrinkles his nose. "I really don't want to think about my sister and future brother-in-law having the 'hots' for each other, Dean."

Bobby's eyebrows shoot up beneath his ball cap at the sound of those words. It was perhaps a little presumptuous to call Sam his 'future brother-in-law', seeing as they barely know each other yet. But it's just so easy to think of the Winchesters as his family now. If Sam is an important part of Dean's life - which he knows he is - then getting to know him is top priority. As Dean would say, 'he's in this for the long haul'.

"We kinda got engaged on the phone," Dean explains casually.

"No we did not, Bobby. It was just a figure of speech."

"I distinctly recall askin' to marry your ass."

"Well, I don't recall saying yes."

"You didn't say _no_ either."

Bobby scratches the top of his head with a sigh. "Will you two idjits stop yappin' over yer future wedding 'n focus on gettin' yourselves packed instead?"

"Sorry, Bobby."

Castiel ducks his head to hide his smile. The idea of getting married at such a young age might not appeal to him, but knowing that Dean might actually be his husband one day is enough to set his heart racing. He can picture their lemon yellow house right now, with a couple of kids playing in the back yard while Dean sets up the barbecue on the porch. He's never had a barbecue before, but he imagines the whole affair is quite domestic. Maybe they'll be one of those couples who host _monthly_ barbeques for all their friends and family. Maybe some of the neighbours will join in too. Dean could wear a stupid, frilly apron, and Castiel could serve ice tea in jugs with little umbrellas floating on the surface. There's something charmingly ironic about beverages seeking protection from the rain.

Dean is just slipping the other shoe onto his foot when a young woman knocks on the door. She's small and slim, with mousy brown hair kept back in a loose bun. She seems harmless enough, but despite her smile, Castiel gets the sense that she's not here to exchange pleasantries; she's here to destroy the hope he's worked so hard to maintain these past few days.

"Good morning," The woman smiles. "My name's Teresa Jones. I'm here from social services. I was hoping I could have a quick word before you get going?"

Castiel stiffens, side-glancing Dean as he twists off the bed. "Why do I need to talk to social services?"

"Your legal guardian is no longer able to care for you and your sister. We're here to assure you a stable living environment, Mr Milton. If I could just take ten minutes of your time -"

"It's _Novak_ ," Dean says with a growl as he gets to his feet. "What's wrong with you frickin' people? Can't you get a guy's name right for once?"

A light blush touches Teresa's cheeks. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't -"

"Ignore my boyfriend," Castiel sighs. "He's just being overprotective. My name is technically Milton, but I prefer to go by Novak. It's okay, you couldn't have known."

Teresa's smile hesitantly returns. "Well… We'd like to have a sit down with you and Anna as soon as possible."

"That won't be necessary," Bobby puffs out his chest. "The boy's stayin' with me at Opal Grove. It's the best place for him."

"As generous as that may be, Opal Grove doesn't stand as a permanent residence."

"I'm going to be eighteen in a few months," Castiel points out. "There's really no point in finding me somewhere else to live. I mean, I won't be _staying_ there…"

"I'm afraid that's not how it works."

"What about my place?" Dean suggests. "We're practically family as it is. Anna's already livin' there, my folks love 'em both… Problem solved!"

Teresa sighs. "Your parents can't be granted custody without a court hearing."

"Okay. How do we get one of those?"

"Sir, please -"

"I'm not lettin' him get throw into the system," Dean cries. "No frickin' way! So you better give us some options, lady, or else you're just wastin' our time."

Teresa purses her lips. "We could look into foster care. It may be difficult to find you a local place that's willing to take you both in, but we can always search further afield. Of course, we have to be realistic as well; taking into account your age, plus your, um… _unique_ situation, it could take a while to find a family willing to take on such responsibility with such little notice."

"What d'you mean by 'unique situation'?" Dean's lip twitches with anger. "You talkin' about his uncle kidnappin' him, or the fact that he's gay?"

"Well," Teresa swallows thickly. "We have had cases where children have been rejected due to their, um… their _preferences_ , but it's extremely rare. And I assure you, we're very particular when choosing the right place for our children. Mr Milton - I mean, Mr _Novak_ \- won't end up anywhere he's not comfortable with."

Castiel shakes his head. "Are you saying there's a chance my sister and I will be separated?"

"We'll do everything we can to prevent that, but it does unfortunately happen sometimes. But your sister is still young; there are plenty of families out there who would be more than happy to take her in, don't worry."

"And then what? We'll never see each other again?"

"Visitations can be arranged, of course."

"So now I need permission to see my own sister? How does that make any sense?!"

"I'll adopt 'em both!" Bobby slaps his hat against his thigh with a shout. "Just get me the damn papers 'n I'll sign 'em!"

Teresa pinches the bridge of her nose. "It's a conflict of interest, Mr Singer. Castiel's been living under your care for the past three months. It would be unethical to grant you custody."

"Unethical my ass! I love the boy like he's my own - same as all the kids I look after. We're his family, goddamit. He ain't goin' to live with a bunch of strangers, ya hear me?"

"You say you want what's best for him," Teresa folds her arms defensively. "Well, finding him a suitable home where he can flourish and grow _is_ what's best for him. Don't you want to give him a chance at a normal life, a normal _childhood_?"

Castiel flits his eyes between Dean and Bobby. They're both clenching their knuckles to keep the anger at bay, but he can see the pure rage flickering behind their stony expressions. He feels like he's a chew toy being fought over - not that he resents them for trying - and Teresa just won the tug of war. If social services get a hold of him, there's no way he and Anna will stay together. Who wants to foster two teenage siblings with a history of abuse and questionable life choices? Maybe Anna will get lucky, but Castiel has no chance. They're going to ship his sister away to some haughty family on the opposite side of the country, and everything he's tried so hard to protect will simply disappear forever. How messed up is that?

"I'll give you time to think," Teresa says with a sheepish smile. "We'll be in touch."

The moment her footsteps fade down the corridor, Castiel grabs his shoe and launches it across the room. It hits the blinds with a crash, knocking over a tray of bandages, and drops to the floor. Everything is starting to spin again; his head is throbbing, his chest is getting tight… He can hardly _breathe_. His hands are shaking so badly, he can barely control his fingers as they twist around fistfuls of hair and pull at his scalp. He wants to feel the sting of his nails digging in deep, puncturing his flesh until warm beads of blood start to roll down his face. He wants to surround himself in that sweet, sweet pain. He wants to forget about everything else for just a few moments, to turn off the lights and lose himself to the erratic beating of his heart pounding against his skull. He just needs something to silence the agony clawing at his chest right now.

"Okay, okay," Dean takes his hands and clamps them to his knees. "We're not startin' that again."

Castiel sucks in a breath. "They're going to take her away, Dean. I'm going to _lose_ her! And then they're going to send _me_ away too, and I'll never see you again. Zachariah's going to win!"

"No, he's not. That asshat ain't gonna win _anythin'_ , Cas. He's behind bars, and _you're_ free. We've just gotta find some way to convince social services -"

"You can't _convince_ those kinds of people!"

"They just wanna help, Cas. Believe it or not, we're on the same side!"

"So now you're agreeing with them?"

"Hell, no!" Dean cups one side of his face and sighs. "I just don't wanna make this harder than it has to be. We've gotta play by their rules, or else they'll just throw you into the system 'n be done with it. Let's just wait for them to call before we get ourselves worked up, alright?"

Castiel frowns. "You want me to just forget about it?"

"It's not a bad idea. The guys are throwin' you a welcome back party at Opal Grove. How 'bout we just try 'n enjoy it, huh? Put all this crap behind us for one night?"

"A party?"

"Yeah, well… I figured you're not in the mood for surprises. Thought I'd give you a heads up first."

Castiel lets his body relax, nails leaving purple crescent moons on his palms, and rests his head against Dean's shoulder. Arms wrap around his waist in an instant, pulling him flush against Dean's chest. They sit there, holding each other, and wait for the storm to pass. He tries to focus on the smell of the dusty flannel tickling his nostrils, the beating of Dean's heart pounding against his own. It's like they're making a promise to never leave each other again; after everything they've overcome, falling at the last hurdle would be ridiculous.

"I'm gonna go start the truck," Bobby clears his throat. "I'll see you boys in a minute."

Once Bobby has left, Dean leans back and presses a kiss against Castiel's forehead. He closes his eyes against the soft touch of lips, only reopening them once Dean has slipped his shoe back on. He silently helps him onto his feet, handing him the crutches with a gentle smile. Even after all this time, Castiel still melts at that look; it never fails to stir the butterflies in his stomach.

"C'mon," Dean squeezes his hand. "Let's go home."

* * *

As soon as they step through the door, they're hit with the force of a dozen party poppers. Despite the pre-warning, Castiel almost stumbles backwards when the entire room shouts 'welcome back' in perfect unison. He has to hold onto Dean's arm to steady himself, letting one of his crutches clatter to the floor in the process.

"Wow," He tries to feign surprise. "This is, um… really… _wow_."

Jo rolls her eyes. "Damn it, Dean. You told him, didn't you?"

"Sorry, Jo."

"Who even cares?" Charlie squeezes past Jo and punches Castiel in the shoulder. "It's so good to have you back, dude!"

He smiles. "It's good to be back."

The party kicks off with terrible music blasting from the kitchen. Castiel's poked and prodded and pushed around by people he barely knows, all of them pretending to be overjoyed at his return. The whole thing blurs into a poorly performed mess of strangers telling him how much they missed him, and how sorry they are for what happened. If he didn't have Dean standing next to him the whole time, he'd probably knock one of them out. The only people he cares to talk to at this little reunion are his _real_ friends - the ones who stuck by him no matter what, and never gave up hope. Honestly, he'd be happier spending the night with just them, without having to force a smile every time someone taps him on the shoulder and sheds a fake tear on his behalf.

"Oh, Clarence. You must've been so scared," Meg grips his arm tightly, dark eyes wide as she leans in close. "I can help you forget, if you'd like? I can make it all go away…"

Dean scoffs. "He's taken, bitch."

"An angel's bound to get tired of fucking a ken doll eventually. I'm just giving myself a head start."

"Well, he's _gay_ , so it's not gonna happen."

"I can be very persuasive."

Castiel chuckles at the venomous look on Dean's face. "Just ignore her. She's trying to get a rise out of you."

"Yeah, well. It's workin'."

"Exactly."

And then, as the crowd parts ahead, he catches a flash of red hair. Everything seems to grind to a halt as Anna turns his way, chocolate brown eyes scanning the room before landing on his face. For a moment, all they do is stare at each from across the floor, and then Castiel is frantically hopping past the faceless people dancing around him (with Dean close behind) until he's standing right in front of his sister for the first time in months. He doesn't know what to say; he's been imagining this moment over and over again for the past five days, but now that it's actually here, the words just won't come out.

"Hey, Castiel," Anna says with a shaky smile. "Long time no see, huh?"

With a lump still lodged in his throat, all he can do is throw his arms around her. He squeezes so hard, his knuckles turn white where they clutch the sleeves of her purple hoodie, fingers tangling in the back of her hair as she rests her head against his chest.

"I've missed you, big brother," She murmurs.

Castiel tries to speak, but the sudden pressure against his wound makes him whimper instead. Anna flinches, cheeks turning pink as she tries to apologise, but Castiel simply waves her off with a half smile, half grimace.

"It's fine," He grits his teeth through the pain. "That was my fault. I'm just… I'm so happy to see you."

"Me too, Castiel."

"So, how are you doing?" He asks. "Dean told me you were getting along with the Winchesters, but… Are you sure you're okay?"

Anna sighs. "Naomi didn't hurt me, if that's what you're asking. She just kept me locked up in a basement."

"How did you escape?"

"I hid behind the door and knocked her out with a broom."

Dean pats her on the back "Atta girl!"

"Where's Naomi now? Did the police find her?"

"I have no idea."

"Don't worry," Dean squeezes his shoulder. "If she has half a brain, she's fled the country by now."

Castiel kisses the top of Dean's hand. "I hope you're right. I won't be responsible for my actions if she shows her face here again."

"She'll have me to answer to first."

Anna sighs. "You're so nice, Dean. _And_ very handsome."

"Don't tell him that. His head's big enough as it is."

"She's just speakin' the truth."

"Mhm," Castiel gives him an exasperated smile, then turns back to Anna. "What about the rest of the Winchesters? Are you really getting on okay?"

"They're great," Anna beams. "Especially Sam… He's so smart. He wants to be lawyer, you know? I'm sure he'll get into law school just fine. He's like, a _genius_."

"A genius with a girlfriend, remember."

Anna flushes darkly. "Ugh! I don't want to date any boys, Castiel!"

"Two gays in the family? We'll be the talk of the town."

"That is _so_ not what I meant."

Castiel chuckles. "Well, I'm just glad you're alright. You _promise_ Naomi didn't hurt you?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

"That seems a little drastic, but okay."

"I've been looking after your fish, by the way," Anna beams. "I've never had a pet before, but it's not so bad. Sam's been helping me keep his tank clan and stuff."

"Thank you, Anna."

"Bubbles is a stupid name though."

"That's kind of the point," Castiel huffs a laugh. "It's an inside joke."

Anna tilts her head to the side with a frown, then shrugs. "Whatever. I'm going to go hang out with Sam, okay?"

"Alright," Castiel forces a smile. He doesn't really want her to leave just yet, but he knows it's best to give her some space; if she's happy, then that's all that matters. "I'll see you later on?"

"Yeah. I'll see you!"

He watches her leave with a weight in his chest, grip tightening on his crutches to keep himself from reaching out to her. He needs to stop being so overprotective. Anna is _safe_ , and the last thing she needs is him hovering about like a worried parent. She's still a kid; her mind is still innocent. The things that happened to him… she doesn't need to find out about all that. Anna deserves to float in that little bubble of ignorance for a little while longer. He doesn't need some huge reunion where they cry on each other's shoulders and reflect on what happened. He has Dean to offload on, to keep him grounded. Anna is his little sister, and things should stay that way.

"You alright?" Dean whispers against his cheek, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

Castiel leans into his touch. "Yes. I think so."

"Cassy!" They both turn to find Balthazar stumbling towards them, clear liquid sloshing over the sides of his cup as he comes closer. Judging by the sharp smell, Castiel would guess he's drinking vodka. "You look absolutely wonderful, Cassy! As fit as a fiddle!"

"Thanks, Balthazar."

"I heard about your current predicament," He hiccups. "And I hope you know that I'd offer to a place to stay, if I hadn't been your counsellor and all that…"

Castiel stifles a laugh. He might consider Balthazar a friend nowadays, but the thought of living with him is somewhat hilarious. Balthazar probably hosts daily parties with strippers and copious amounts of alcohol. They wouldn't be a great fit as roommates. But still, the offer is sweet; he doubts Balthazar would have the guts to be so openly kind if he was sober right now.

"That's very generous of you," He smiles, awkwardly patting Balthazar on the shoulder. "But I'm sure we'll figure something out."

"Oh, Cassy. You're such a brave little ant."

"Um… Thank you?"

"I admire you as a person, and as a friend. _Very_ much so."

Dean snorts. "Enjoyin' the party by any chance?"

"The bar is quite divine," Balthazar waves his hand in the air. "I slipped a little something into that disgusting concoction of raspberry and lime, gave it an extra kick. Care for a glass?"

"No, thanks. I'm good."

"How dull."

"Gotta keep my wits about me," Dean shrugs. "I'm keepin' Cas company tonight."

Castiel takes a sniff of Balthazar's drink and gags. "Do you really think it's wise to spike the bar when there are underage kids here? You're going to get yourself fired."

"Fired _shmired_."

"I don't -"

"Good ol' Mr S would never fire me. We're bosom buddies, you see."

"Of course you are… But even so -"

"Lighten up, Cassy! Have some _fun_. We got you out of that dreadful place, and now you're free! Make the most of it, will you?"

Castiel opens his mouth to reply, but Balthazar spots Bobby heading their way before he gets the chance.

"Oops! Better skedaddle… Cover for me, boys!"

"What in the hell is that idjit up to?" Bobby suddenly appears behind them, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as Balthazar ducks into the crowd.

Dean shrugs. "Just Balthazar bein' his usual dickish self."

"Well, I hope he lays off the damn hooch tonight. You mix these kids with alcohol 'n you've got a hot mess on yer hands."

"Aha," Castiel forces a laugh. "Um, anyway… Did you want to talk to me, or…?"

"I don't wanna spoil yer night, Castiel, but I just got off the phone," Bobby scratches his chin. "Now, don't go gettin' yer hopes up, but a friend of mine's been lookin' to adopt for a few years now. Lost her husband and kid in a shootin' a while back. I thought I may as well give her a call."

Castiel swallows thickly. "Bobby, I -"

"She's local, ya see. Lives just a couple miles up the road. And she's a good woman; I've known her since I lost my wife back in the day… We look out for each other."

"But… But isn't that a conflict of interest as well? I mean, you _know_ each other."

"No one needs to know that."

Castiel looks to Dean for some kind of back up, but his stupid boyfriend is miles away. He feels like he's being cornered here; on the one hand, he's grateful that Bobby is trying so hard to find a place for him and Anna to stay, but on the _other_ hand, it seems a little cruel to dangle such an offer in his face, knowing too well that it probably won't work out. Adoption isn't as simple as picking up the phone, selling a sob story, and claiming a couple of kids for your trouble. He's sure this friend of Bobby's is great, but just because she's been looking to adopt for years _doesn't_ mean she'll make the top of the list. Social services probably have a dozen people in mind already. He doubts he and Anna have a say in who they decide on.

"Thanks, Bobby," He stares down at his shoes, too conflicted to look him in the eye right now. "I appreciate it. I really do… I just don't think we should be meddling with this."

"There's no harm in givin' the right people a nudge in the right direction."

Castiel smiles. "No, I suppose not."

Before he can say anything else, Charlie is suddenly grabbing his arm and dragging him towards the dance floor. He has no idea where she came from, but he's kind of glad she showed up.

"Come on, Cas! Dance with me and Jo! We need a gentleman; Gabe keeps grabbing our asses!"

"You know I can't dance with crutches, right?"

"Well, you can hop about then!"

"I don't think -"

"No arguments, Novak! You're coming with me, and that's final!"

Castiel doesn't protest any further, just lets Charlie drag him away from Bobby and Dean. His crutches scrape across the floor as he struggles to keep up, but his heart is racing in a way that makes his head dizzy with excitement. He wants to forget everything else for just a couple of hours. He wants to dance until his stitches burst and everything fades to black. Maybe he's being reckless, or maybe he's just trying to distract himself from what's really going on, but who cares? Right now, he just wants to feel nothing.

* * *

It's not long before he finds himself sitting on the porch alone. He couldn't handle the music or the crowd anymore; he felt like he was drowning. He just needs to clear his head, and he figured the fresh air would help. It's pretty dark now - the stars are out - and people are slowly starting to leave. Kevin's mom picked him up an hour ago, but they promised to keep in touch this time. He's not sure where Jo is, but he's guessing she and Charlie are doing something highly inappropriate in a closet somewhere. He remembers sneaking away from Kevin's party with Dean that one time; they almost had the most intimate moment of their lives, but Castiel chickened out. A part of him is thankful that he did, or else they would've rushed into things, but he's also frustrated with himself for always being so scared of those around him. He's sick of feeling so terrified all the time.

"Care if I join you?"

Castiel jumps at the familiar voice, but looking into Dean's eyes instantly calms him down.

"Dean," He sighs. "I was just, um… catching my breath."

"Well, you should probably have a rest anyway."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

"Can we please talk about something else?"

Dean purses his lips, then flops down beside Castiel with a grunt. They sit in silence for a few minutes, just staring at the starlit sky. Castiel can feel the tension rising, preparing him for whatever conversation they're about to have. He doesn't want to argue with Dean, but he's ready to fight his corner. Everyone keeps pressuring him to make decisions and move on from what happened. It's like they can't even see that he's struggling. He thought he could at least count on his own boyfriend to understand, but Dean completely blanked him inside before; he didn't say a world while Bobby was shovelling that adoption crap down his throat, despite how uncomfortable he clearly was. How could he just stand by and not say anything?

"This is where he had our first kiss," Dean suddenly breaks the silence. "You remember that?"

"Of course I do."

"I was so frickin' nervous that night… I knew I wanted to kiss you, but I was scared of gettin' too close. The thought of losing you made me feel so… so _hopeless_ , ya know?"

Castiel shakes his head. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I saw the way you looked at me before, when Bobby was talkin' about his friend. You were pissed at me."

"That's not true."

"No, it is," Dean scrubs a hand over his face. "And I get it. I should've said somethin', told Bobby to drop it… But I guess I froze up."

"Why?"

"Same reason I was so scared of kissing you: I don't wanna lose you, but I have no frickin' idea how to fight for you either."

Castiel sighs. "You _are_ fighting for me."

"But I don't know anythin' about adoption or foster care… It's like I'm outta the loop, ya now? Everyone gets a say in what happens to you, but not me. 'cause I'm useless."

"You're not useless, Dean."

"I just want you to find somewhere decent - a proper home for you and Anna. But I can't… I can't give that to you. There's all these stupid rules and regulations, 'n social services don't give a crap as long as they're keepin' their noses clean," Dean quickly wipes his eyes. "You belong with _me_ , Cas. Not a bunch of strangers!"

Castiel takes his hand, thumb circling the rough skin of his knuckles. "It doesn't matter where I end up, Dean. You're the one who said that."

"I know, but… I just wish I could do more."

"You're doing everything you can."

Dean's throat ripples. "I'm sorry for bein' a dick. I'm workin' on it, I swear."

Castiel huffs a laugh, then goes back to staring at the stars. "I know this may sound sudden… but do you think I should go visit my mom?"

"Do you _want_ to visit her?"

"I don't know… But after what you told me, that she still cares… I feel like maybe I should."

Dean hooks his chin over Castiel's shoulder and hums. "If that's what you wanna do, then okay. I can drive you to see her whenever you want to - just say the word."

"But… But what if I'm just trying to keep this family together still? After everything that's happened, a part of me still hopes that my dad will come back, that we'll all live happily ever after. But maybe it's time I just stop."

"Your dad doesn't deserve to know you," Dean grumbles. "But, I mean... I'll stand by you, Cas. No matter what. We can find your dad, visit your mom -"

"No," Castiel clenches his fists, surprised by his own outburst. "No, you're right. He doesn't deserve to know me, not anymore."

"You sure that's -"

"I'm sure," He leans his head against Dean's, letting his shoulders sag. "I think it's time to finally move on… My parents didn't want to be parents, and my uncle more or less wants me dead. But I've got a new life now - a better one. Maybe I should just focus on what I have."

Dean kisses his cheek and smiles. "Spoken like a cheesy Hallmarks card."

"Shut up," Castiel shoves him away half-heartedly. "I thought we were having a moment there."

"We were! I just love it when you get all philosophical on me."

"Right," He rolls his eyes. "Hey… Do you know the woman that Bobby was talking about? I mean… Are they nice?"

Dean shrugs. "Pretty sure he was talkin' about Jody Mills. The shootin' was all over the news when it happened a while back. I know she's a hard ass, but I guess you kinda have to be if you're a cop."

"A cop?"

"Yeah. She was aimin' for the Sheriff's position before, well… ya know."

"And she wants to adopt?"

"I don't know her that well. But if Bobby said so, then probably. Those two are pretty close."

Castiel drags his heel through the dirt. "I'm not sure if I could live with a cop… You saw how I reacted to them at the hospital. They just remind me of that place."

"No one's forcin' you to live with her, Cas. But don't you think Jody's a better option than some stranger who lives half way across the country?"

"Jody _is_ a stranger."

Dean sighs. "Everyone's a stranger before they're not."

" _Now_ who's being philosophical?"

"Just trust me, Cas. Jody's a good person. You could do a lot worse."

"It doesn't matter anyway… There's no way social services would just hand us over to the first person who offers."

"How d'you know that?"

"I'm not getting my hopes up, Dean."

"C'mon, Cas. You've gotta be a little optimistic about this."

Castiel covers his face with his hands. "But everything's just so _messy_ right now. I know I should be grateful that I'm still alive, but so much is changing! Luke's going to turn eighteen in a few weeks, and God knows where he'll go after that. And then there's the _trial_ … What if they ask me to testify? I can't stand in front of a courtroom, Dean! I can't face my uncle or Lilith again. And on top of all that, my sister might be taken away from me. The only thing I've got going for me is _you_ , and you're bound to eventually see sense and leave me as well!"

"Okay, now you're just bein' stupid."

"Well, it's true."

"Listen to me, baby," Dean a brushes the hair out of his face and kisses his forehead. "You don't have to do anythin' you don't wanna do, okay? If the police ask you to testify, then screw 'em! The evidence is already stacked against that bitch; no jury's gonna let her go scot-free. Same for your uncle. And as for _Luke_ … I don't think he's goin' anywhere, Cas. I mean, you two are brothers."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"He wants to know you. He said that, didn't he?"

"Well, yeah. But -"

"So why the hell would he leave first chance he got, huh? Bobby's gonna help him find somewhere local, 'n you two are gonna work things out."

"And you?"

Dean sweeps a thumb across his cheekbone and sighs, breath fluttering against his lips. "There's no way in hell you're gonna scare me off, Cas. You've got more chance of Gabe respectin' someone's boundaries than me walkin' away from this. I _love_ you, okay? Don't you get that?"

Castiel smiles weakly. "I… I love you too."

"So you're gonna quit pushin' me away now? Stop waitin' for me to leave?"

"I promise," He kisses the tips of Dean's fingers. "I'll try not be so paranoid all the time."

"That doesn't mean you get to bottle up your crap though."

"Pfft… Says you."

"Hey, I resent that! I'm gettin' better with my, ya know… _feelings_ 'n stuff."

Castiel chuckles, scooting closer to Dean until his back is pressed up against his boyfriend's chest. Their fingers entwine in his lap, tapping a silent tune as the music dies down inside. He feels so comfortable in Dean's arms, like nothing bad could possibly happen in this moment.

"Speaking of Luke," He murmurs. "Where is he?"

Dean shrugs. "He said he had somethin' important to do, told me he probably wouldn't make it to the party."

"Hm. That's suspicious…"

"What did you _just_ say about not bein' paranoid anymore?"

"You're right, you're right. I'm sorry."

"Just look at the stars, okay? Don't think about anythin' else… Just look at the stars."

And so he does. He rests the back of his head against Dean's shoulder, and he stares up at the sky for God knows how long. The hours tick by without him noticing; he's too absorbed by the swirls of black and purple and inky blue painting the heavens, like the surface of a marble. The occasional star glitters brighter than its neighbours, seeking attention from his watchful gaze, but Castiel tries to soak it all in - every little piece of magic puzzled together for his own amazement. It's like the earth is showing off just for him, trying to make the future seem less bleak with its ethereal beauty. And it works. His whole life, he's been wary of the calm before the storm, but what if this is it? What if his life is nothing but calm seas from here on out? What if all the darkness he's suffered through has lead him to this very moment?

What if, for once in his life, he can finally be at peace?


	28. Chapter 28

**Sorry for the late chapter! I've been very busy with artwork. And sorry in advance for any mistakes; all errors are due to a lack of sleep, and will hopefully be sorted out by tomorrow. Please leave a review if you can! Thank you so much, guys :)**

* * *

Castiel folds his arms and slumps back in his chair, glaring at Teresa with as much bitter contempt as he can muster. She offers him a tight-lipped smile, but even that small gesture of kindness boils his blood. This woman - though not entirely to blame - has the power to destroy everything he's fought so hard to protect. How can she just sit there like that, smiling while every nerve in his body is close to exploding with fear? Next to Dean, Anna is the most important person in his life… It's not fair that her fate is being decided by some stranger in a pantsuit. He doesn't need social services interfering with their lives; it should be _him_ looking after his sister, not the first eligible family hoping to foster in exchange for a few bucks.

"How long is this going to take?" He spits.

Anna smacks his hand. "Jeez, Castiel! Don't be so rude."

"Not long," Teresa says, blatantly ignoring the disdain dripping from his words. "I'd just like to discuss a few different options with you, give you both an idea of how this process usually works."

"What process?"

"Well, I'm sure you know we don't just pass you onto anyone… The local fostering agency has a number of potential carers in mind, but we have to choose the best one for you personally. There's a shortage of foster carers in the area as it is, but your particular situation is especially tricky."

Castiel huffs a laugh. "Yes, you have said."

"I'm just giving you the facts, Mr. Novak. There are several different types of foster care, and not everyone is fit to handle this kind of case."

"And what kind of case is that?"

"With children who have undergone significant trauma, such as yourself, we tend to provide extra care," Teresa clears her throat. "It's called therapeutic fostering. Unlike other types of foster care, it requires a certain amount of training. Obviously that makes it more difficult to find a suitable carer, especially in such a small area, but the additional experience really does help -"

"I don't need that," Castiel shakes his head. "I don't need special treatment, okay? I'm not emotionally scarred. I can deal with what happened to me without some 'expert' breathing down my neck."

"It's really not like that. The training deals with situations like panic attacks… It's fairly simple stuff."

"Why would you think that's necessary?"

"It's fairly common when -"

"No one can stop the panic attacks, okay? You can't train someone to deal with that sort of thing. I don't care what their certificate says!"

Castiel flexes his fingers beneath the chair, resisting the urge to dig his nails into his palms. Teresa doesn't understand what it's like; she doesn't understand anything about him. She doesn't understand how the memories come and go without warning, how the image of his mom lying in a pool of her own blood is permanently ingrained into the back of his mind, how sometimes the only way to vanquish the bad thoughts is to drown them out with as much pain as he can bare to inflict upon himself. No amount of _training_ can prepare someone for that. There's only one person who knows what to do in that situation; everybody else are just shadows floating on the edge of his vision - silent and fuzzy and always too far from reach. It doesn't matter if they went to college and earned themselves a top degree in therapeutic whatever… Unless they smell of woodchips and gasoline, with the greenest eyes and a thousand freckles, there's no chance they can make a difference.

"I'm sorry," Teresa says, and she actually sounds sincere. "I can't even imagine what it's like, but I _do_ want to help you find the best place there is. I just need your cooperation to makes things a little easier."

Castiel swallows thickly, glancing at Anna's hand squeezing his arm.

"You don't need to apologise," He coughs. "I just, um… I get like that sometimes. Please don't take it personally."

"I never do."

"Is therapeutic fostering compulsory, or do I get a choice?"

Teresa purses her lips. "For the benefit of both the carer and the child, therapeutic fostering is required for a minimum of three months. After that, it's up to the agency whether or not you're fit to be rehomed. Only if that's what you want, of course."

"But I'll be eighteen by then. It won't even matter."

"That's right. But your sister will still be in foster care, remember. It's likely she will be for quite some time unless we look further afield."

"She's staying here with me," Castiel balls up his fists. "We're not getting separated again."

"That's a last resort, Mr. Novak. We're doing everything we can to make sure you and your sister stay together."

"Will we move around a lot?" Anna asks shyly. "I mean… I thought fostering was only like a temporary thing. Foster carers don't actually keep you, do they?"

Teresa spreads her hands out on the desk. "Well, that's something I wanted to talk to you about. It's quite common for foster carers to eventually adopt a child if the situation is working well. Like I said, there are different kinds of foster care… Respite and short term foster carers tend to look after children until their parents are fit to resume custody again. Obviously in your situation, we're looking for a more long term plan. It would be ideal to get you both settled as soon as possible."

"But what about when our mom gets better? Will we go back to her then?"

Castiel places a hand on Anna's shoulder and sighs. "You know that mom's in the hospital, Anna. She might not get better for a long time."

"But... it's been almost five years."

"I know," He smiles sadly. "But sometimes people don't get better overnight. The doctors aren't trying to fix her scars, Anna; they're trying to fix what's in her head."

"You mean she's crazy."

"I didn't say that."

"She tried to kill herself while we were still in the house," Anna sniffs. "Maybe she is a little crazy."

"Did uncle Zach tell you that?"

Anna shrugs, wiping a sleeve across her nose. "I don't know… I just thought she'd come back eventually. I didn't realize we'd never see her again."

"Due to your mother's condition, we'd opt for a closed adoption when it comes to it," Teresa explains. "That means all custody would be revoked and passed onto your new carer. It's then up to them whether or not your biological parents are able to visit you up until you turn eighteen. Then it's obviously your own choice."

Castiel scrubs a hand over his face. "And what about our foster parents? Do we get any say in who you choose, or is that all up to you as well?"

"We've narrowed your best options down to three potential carers. I'd like to discuss them with you now, if that's okay. Then maybe we can arrange a meeting with the ones you feel more drawn to."

"Is that what's in those files?"

Teresa glances down at the papers on her lap. "I've brought you some basic information on each of the families, just so you can try and get a feel for them."

"How are we supposed to do that without actually _meeting_ them?"

"Stop it, Castiel," Anna elbows him in the ribs. "She just said we could arrange a meeting if we want to."

"Yeah, but -"

"You're just being awkward for the sake of it."

Castiel rolls his eyes and looks away. He knows she's right, but being chastised by his little sister is kind of embarrassing. He just wishes that Dean was allowed to be here to keep him calm; he feels so insecure around these people without the comfort of having him close by. He feels like he needs to protect Anna from whatever social services have in mind for her, but maybe he's just being paranoid again. He did promise Dean he'd try and stop being so distrustful of everyone, but it's pretty hard after what his uncle put him through. For all he knows, Teresa could be one of Lilith's cronies, ready to take him back to that awful place again.

"So, there were five foster carers with therapeutic training in the area, but only three of them are interested in long term care. The agency has reached out to all three of them, so meetings can be readily arranged, but there are some conditions that I'm worried about."

Castiel frowns. "What do you mean?"

"Well, foster carers looking to adopt further down the line tend to have a few preferences, of course. We try and match them with appropriate cases to make it easier on everyone. We consider the fostering a 'trial run', if you like, to see if you're well suited. These kinds of carers are rarely paid to foster unless they decide to extend their care without the intention of adopting."

"But no one's going to adopt a seventeen year old," He scoffs. "I'm just going to end up sabotaging what little chance Anna has at finding a real home."

"That's not necessarily true. We've rehomed kids your age in the past, and it's always worked out fine."

"Are you saying these families are willing to take us both in?"

Teresa sighs. "Well, why don't we have a look first? You're bound to have your own preferences as well."

"I want to see them," Anna leans forward, hovering over the desk while Teresa lays the individual files out side by side. Each file has a label with a name and number in the top right corner, and Castiel immediately recognises the name on the third - _Jody Mills_.

"Okay, so we have the Thompsons, the Doyles, and then Miss. Mills. It's a very diverse selection; that's why it's probably best to arrange separate meetings and house visits with all three of them before deciding."

"That one," Castiel points at Jody's file. "I'd like to look at that one first, please."

Teresa scratches her temple. "I'm not sure that Miss. Mills is the best fit for you, Castiel."

"Then why is she in the pile?"

"Because her lifestyle is extremely ideal for someone like Anna; she's got a lovely home, a steady income, she's great with children… But she's made it distinctly clear that she's not looking to house any boys for personal reasons."

Castiel's heart sinks. "Personal reasons? Like what?"

"I'm sorry. I can't discuss that with you."

"But even if she is ideal for Anna, why would you put her on the list if she's not willing to take us both? I told you we're not interested in any families that want to split us up."

"It's a last resort," Teresa says in a placating tone of voice. "Just in case you change your mind and decide to live in separate homes for the time being… You said yourself, you'll be eighteen in a couple of months. You'll be able to visit Anna as long as her foster parents agree to it, which I'm sure they will."

Castiel's jaw ticks with anger. "So you were planning on sending us to different homes all along? You thought I'd just bow down and get on with it?"

"Calm down, big brother," Anna whispers. "Just hear her out."

"We weren't able to find a perfect match in the area," Teresa explains. "Most foster carers willing to adopt siblings are located in the city. But you'd be surprised how many people change their minds after meeting the children in person. I can still arrange a meeting if you want me to, but you need to prepare yourself to make a tough decision. You might have to be separated for some time."

Castiel sucks in a breath. "Is it me? Is it because of what happened? Do they not want me because… because they think I'm _damaged_ or something?"

"Of course not," Teresa goes to touch his arm, but decides against it. "Age plays a huge part in it. People looking to adopt usually have younger children in mind. Like I said, therapeutic foster carers are trained to deal with this sort of thing; what happened to you is _not_ the problem."

"But none of these families give a damn about me? They're only interested in Anna?"

"Not at all! The Thompsons and the Doyles specified that they'd prefer children under fifteen years of age, but that's not to say they won't take you in as well. Foster carers do what they do to help kids like you. If worse comes to worst, we'll just have to place you both in temporary placements for a short while, until we can find somewhere more suitable for your needs."

Castiel runs a hand through his hair, eyes flitting over the files in front of them. All three of these families could be perfect for Anna, but instead he's getting in the way of things. Maybe insisting that they don't get split up is actually the selfish thing to do; maybe he should just let them give Anna to a kind, loving family that will treat her right. He doesn't mind travelling to the city and living in some rundown home for delinquent teenagers, not if it means his sister gets to be with people who actually care about her. He'll be eighteen in just a few months, and then he can come back and move in with Dean… If they're still together at that point, of course. Long distance relationships rarely work, so maybe he'll have moved on by then. Castiel wouldn't blame him.

"This is what I'll do," Teresa says, gathering the files back into a pile on her lap. "I'll give Miss. Mills a call and see if she's available to meet with you both next week. If things go well, then great! If they don't, we'll just keep looking elsewhere. How does that sound?"

"Fine," Castiel grits his teeth. "Whatever. Do what you need to do, just… Please excuse me."

Anna grabs his arm. "Castiel, wait -"

"Don't worry about me, alright? I'll see you later."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'll be fine," He squeezes her hand. "There's just somewhere I need to be."

* * *

The sky is overcast with clouds by the time he gets to Dean's house, a light drizzle of rain wetting his cheeks. He can smell the earthy freshness of the grass beneath his feet, a sure sign that spring is on its way. He's never been more relieved to finally turn his back on the past; he's hoping for a fresh start, away from the cruel abuses of his uncle, and the constant worry that he's not good enough. He just wishes that things were simpler, that he was young and 'cute' like all the other kids waiting to be adopted. Maybe then someone like Jody would want him, and they'd all live happily ever after… Well, he can still dream, can't he?

It takes three minutes of desperate knocking for Dean to finally answer the door. Judging by his rumpled appearance, he's in the middle of getting changed, his collar upturned and shoes untied. But Castiel doesn't care; he's still the most beautiful boy he's ever seen.

"Cas? What're doin' here?" Dean looks him over with a frown. "I was just on my way over."

"Are you alone?"

"What?"

" _Are you alone_?"

Dean glances over his shoulder. "Uh… Yeah? Mom and dad are workin', and Sammy's out with some friends. Why?"

"Good."

Before Dean can say anything else, Castiel is grabbing his face and kissing him breathless. The door slams behind them as they stumble down the hallway, hands roaming over each other's bodies with the kind of filthy passion that has them both moaning like a couple of horny teenagers. He can feel the warm press of Dean's tongue sliding over his own, lips mumbling nonsense against his lips as they fall into the next room. Dean's back slams against the wall, squeezing a surprised rush of air from his lungs. Castiel chuckles into the kiss for all of two seconds before fisting Dean's hair and diving in deeper.

He can sense Deans' mind slowly catching up with him, his hands reluctantly trying to push Castiel away, but all he wants to do is make this last for as long as possible; he'd rather be doing normal, teenage things with his boyfriend than discussing his meeting with Teresa to death.

"Cas… What -"

"Just shut up and kiss me."

"But -"

"I don't want to talk about it."

It's only when he starts fumbling with his belt that Dean actually shoves him off.

"Okay, stop," Dean growls, cupping Castiel's face and forcing him to look forward. "Just stop 'n tell me what happened."

" _Nothing_ happened."

"Bullshit."

"Can't I just kiss my boyfriend without it having to mean something terrible is going on?!"

"No, not really."

"Well, fine," Castiel swats Dean's hands away and goes to leave. "I wasn't quite expecting that reaction, but whatever. If you don't want me here, then I guess I'll just show myself out."

Dean grabs his elbow. "Oh, c'mon! Don't be like that, Cas."

"Be like what?"

"You're pushin' me away again!"

"That's rich."

"I don't want you to leave," Dean's voice turns gentle. "I'm just worried about you… I mean, you're actin' like a crazy person, Cas. And after your meeting with Teresa, I think I have the right to be frickin' concerned!"

Castiel stops resisting Dean's hold and sighs. "But why do we need to talk about it?"

"'cause I wanna make sure you're okay. I wanna know what the hell happened to make you turn up at my house in this kinda state."

"I came here because I thought you'd understand!"

"How am I supposed to do that if you won't talk to me, baby?"

"Don't call me that," He scrubs a hand over his face. "I'm not a child, Dean!"

"You've gotta stop takin' things so literally."

Castiel grumbles. "My apologises. I guess I'll just switch off the way I think and be a little more normal for your sake, shall I?"

"You know that's not what I meant!"

"Then why do I constantly feel like I'm not good enough for you, that I'm just a disappointment?!"

"I dunno!" Dean throws his hands in the air, eyes wide with desperation. "But that's not what I think, Cas! You're just convincing' yourself that everyone hates you so it makes it easier for you to walk away! I don't know how many times I can tell you I love you before it finally sinks in, but I'll keep on tellin' you for the rest of my life if it means you'll one day understand how frickin' amazing you are!"

Castiel snaps his mouth shut and falls silent. The wild look in Dean's eyes is terrifying - not in a way that scares him, but in a way that makes every word he just said shine with such clarity and truth, that he can't help the tears from falling.

"I just wish… I just wish that things were easier," He takes a shaky breath. "I just wish that I could be with you and Anna, and that nothing else mattered."

"I know," Dean gently pulls him in by his elbow, resting his head against his shoulder. "I know, baby."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

"Shh. I know you are. It's okay."

"No, it's not."

"Just let it all out."

Castiel groans at the soggy patch on Dean's shoulder. "Why do you have this effect on me? I was never much of a crier before I met you."

"I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or not."

"It wasn't meant as one."

Dean chuckles. "Well, that's how I'm gonna take it. If I'm the only guy who can turn you into a blubbering mess, that's gotta count for somethin', right?"

"I'm not sure how you came to a positive conclusion on that, but fine."

Castiel takes one more deep breath before pulling away, smiling at the look of pure affection on Dean's face. He can try and drown himself in fear and self-loathing as much as he wants to, but he can never escape the simple fact that this boy right here is in love with him. Maybe it's about time he just accepts a good thing for what it is and allows himself _to_ be loved.

"I'm sorry," He says one last time. "I shouldn't have jumped on you like that… I just wanted you so badly, I guess I wasn't thinking straight."

Dean tucks a stray hair behind his ear and smirks. "Makes sense. A body like mine is kinda irresistible."

"You have such a way with words."

"Well, I _am_ an English tutor," Dean puffs out his chest. "I've got the brains to match the looks."

Castiel shakes his head with an exasperated smile. "God, I love you."

"I love you too."

"Even though I can be a real assbutt at times?"

"I think the whole asshole thing is hot," Dean wraps his arms around his waist with a grin. "Makes me feel better about my own douchery."

"I'm not sure that's word."

"Well, it is now," Dean presses a soft kiss against his forehead. "I'm sorry too, ya know. If you don't wanna talk about the meeting, then I'm not gonna force you to. You'll tell me in your own time."

Castiel sighs, burrowing his face into Dean's chest. "Can't you just distract me for a couple of hours? I promise I'll tell you everything afterwards."

"I don't think we should do anythin' when you're upset like this."

"I'm not that upset."

"You need to sit down for a bit. You didn't even bring your crutches, you idiot."

"I don't need them anymore."

"Liar," Dean gently lowers him onto the couch. "Just hang on a sec. I'll go get you something to drink."

Castiel groans. "I'm offering you _sex_ , Dean! I didn't come here to drink tea and watch awful daytime television with you."

"Nice to know I'm good for something."

"I'm being serious… I just want to touch you. I want to forget about everything else for just _five_ minutes. I want to be inside you, Dean. I want to make you feel good."

The tips of Dean's ears turn red. "You… You wanna be on top?"

"Well, not if that's an issue for you. We can do it whatever way you want, I don't mind."

"I... I, um… I don't know if..."

"That's okay," Castiel gets up from the couch and takes Dean's hand, heart fluttering at the slight tremble in his fingers as they slot together. "I honestly don't mind, Dean. I just know that I can't stop thinking about the last time we were intimate… It was one of the greatest moments of my life."

Dean swallows thickly, then huffs a laugh. "I'm honoured."

"You should be."

"The thing is… I've always, um… I-I've always wanted to… to try it the other way," Dean stares at the ground and licks his lips, the heat rushing to his cheeks more and more by the second. "But I've always been too embarrassed to ask, ya know? You're the second guy I've been with, but I didn't wanna force you into anythin' on your first time. I wanted you to think I could protect you… I wanted to keep you safe. I guess I just thought askin' for _that_ would make me seem, I dunno… pathetic?"

"Why?" Castiel frowns. "Your preferred position in sex doesn't define you as a person, Dean. You can still keep me safe regardless."

"That's not how everyone else sees it."

"And why should that matter?"

Dean hesitantly meets his eyes, cheeks still burning a deep shade of pink. "You really want to - to _do_ that? I mean, you're not gonna think I'm some kind _sub_ are you?"

"A… sub?"

"Oh, c'mon, Cas. You can't be _that_ frickin' innocent!"

Castiel narrows his eyes. "A sub is a type of sandwich, isn't it?"

"Oh, Jesus Christ."

"I don't -"

"Just forget the sub thing, okay?" Dean waves him off, a small smile touching his lips. "You're adorable sometimes, you know that?"

Castiel shrugs sheepishly. "I don't mean to be."

"And that's why it's so hot."

"Stop teasing me."

"But you're so easy… It's hilarious."

Castiel's throat ripples as Dean takes a step closer, a hungry look flickering in his eyes.

"So does this mean that you _want_ to, or…?"

Dean surprises him by lifting his shirt and running a hand over his stomach. He can't help but hiss when the tips of his fingers touch the marred flesh on his right side, the constant reminder of what Lilith did to him just a couple of weeks ago. It's not that it hurts, more that the reminder of that night still wounds him. He never wants to think about that pain ever again, never wants to see those cold eyes boring into his skull like the moment the knife ripped through his stomach. He just wants to forget.

"Don't do that," He whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. "Please, Dean…"

"You're beautiful"

" _Don't_."

"If you can't let yourself believe it, then how the hell are you supposed to believe _me_? I ain't doin' this until you say it, Cas. I'm not gonna touch you until you _say_ it."

Castiel squirms away from him. "Why are you doing this? Can't you see that it's not helping?!"

"Just say it, Cas."

"No!"

"Say it."

"I can't say it!"

"Yes, you can, baby," Dean takes him by the shoulders, pulls him close. "Just _say_ it, Cas. I'm beautiful! Why can't you say it? _I'm beauitiful_!"

"I'm not!"

"You _are_."

"I'm not doing this," He pushes Dean away. "I thought you hated that word anyway? How is it fair to use it against me now?"

"I don't hate it, Cas. I just never believed it when you called me it."

"Oh, so it's okay for _you_ to not believe it?"

"But I do now," Dean croaks, and it's only then that Castiel notices the tears in his eyes. "Do you have any frickin' idea how much I hated myself before you came along? Sure, my life might seem pretty damn swell compared to yours, but I was in _bad_ place, Cas. A _really_ bad place."

Castiel opens his mouth, but no words come out.

"I blamed myself for what happened to Jo, about what happened to my mom, about Sammy ravin' about some fancy ass college we could never afford! I thought I was a failure, Cas. Hell, I thought the only folks who could ever love me were my family, and that's 'cause they didn't have any other choice! But then I met _you_ , and I started to realize that… that I _am_ a good guy. I saw the way you looked at me - like I hung the frickin' moon - and I stopped hatin' myself for just a second. And then that second turned into days, then weeks, then _months_ … I forgot what it even _felt_ like to hate myself, to _blame_ myself! You called me beautiful, Cas, and I believed it. I actually thought I was somethin' special for once in my sorry ass life, and that's 'cause of you."

Castiel swallows thickly. "Dean…"

"So don't you dare give me that crap about not bein' beautiful, Cas. The things that bitch did to you... That's not who you are. You're the most amazin' guy I've ever met, and I love you."

"I… I love you too."

"Then _say_ it."

"But I can't, Dean. I can't believe it."

Dean responds by crashing their lips together, hands cupping his face with so much care and devotion, he can almost feel it in his bones. His hand slides back up his shirt, resting over the scar on his stomach, but Castiel doesn't flinch away this time. If he closes his eyes and focuses on nothing but the sweet taste of Dean's mouth, then the words actually start to make some sense… How could anyone love him like this, with so much sincerity, if he _wasn't_ beautiful? Maybe Dean was right; his whole life, his uncle has told him how ugly and sinful he is, but what if that wasn't the truth? What if this - what Dean is saying to him - is what _really_ matters?

"Say it," Dean demands once they break apart, voice thick with emotion.

"I…"

"C'mon, Cas. _Say it_."

Castiel looks straight into Dean's eyes, bottom lip trembling, and takes a deep breath. "I… I-I'm beautiful."

"Say it again."

"I-I'm beautiful."

Dean nips at his the corner of his mouth. "Again."

"I'm beautiful."

"Louder."

"I'm beautiful. I'm beautiful. I'm _beautiful_."

Dean grins. "Hell yeah, you are."

And then they're stumbling back out of the room and up the stairs, Dean awkwardly shedding their clothes as Castiel continues to worship his mouth. They fall onto the bed without really noticing; it's the creak of the springs that gives it away. Castiel's bare down to his boxers, and Dean is already naked beneath him. He can feel his hardness pressing against his thigh, dragging a line of wet heat across his flesh. Dean wastes no time in pulling down his boxers and letting him spring free, taking them both in his fist with a filthy groan; it's enough to send him close to the edge before they've even started.

"Wait," He pants against Dean's mouth. "Stop, stop, stop…"

Dean instantly stills. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, I just… I-I don't want it to happen this way… I want to be inside you, remember?"

A beautiful blush blooms across Dean's cheeks, bringing his splattering of freckles to attention.

"Oh, yeah," He licks his lips. "I, um… I-I've got the stuff."

"Where?"

"Second drawer to your right."

Castiel twists off Dean's lap, wincing slightly at the pain in his stomach, and reaches blindly over the edge of the bed. In their hurry to get on with it, they'd forgotten to turn on the lights. The evening sky is turning a light purple outside, and the streetlamps are slowly fading into use. Castiel just hopes they have time before John and Mary come back, because getting caught would certainly be humiliating.

"You find it?"

Castiel looks down at the small bottle of clear liquid in his hand. He's pretty sure that this is lubrication, but he has absolutely no idea what he's supposed to do with it.

"How do I, um… H-How does this work?"

Dean smiles up at him. "You put it on your fingers and, ya know… Do what I did to you last time."

"Put them up your -"

"Ass. Yeah."

Castiel gulps. "Okay. Okay, um… I-I can do this. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Well, you could tear my prostate clean out, but -"

"What?!"

"I'm kiddin'," Dean chuckles. "Seriously, Cas. I'll be fine. I've done this to myself plenty of times before, so don't sweat it."

A coy smile tugs at Castiel's lips. "Oh, really?"

"Shaddup, ya pervert."

"It's just interesting to know what you get up to in your spare time."

"Are you gonna stick them in or what?"

Castiel's hands are shaking as he drizzles a generous amount over his fingers. Dean is laid out on the bed with his legs spread open, teeth grinding his bottom lip in an unfairly attractive kind of way. He remembers vaguely how Dean did it to him (he was so overcome with lust and fear in that moment that he barely had a clue what was going on) but kneeling over Dean's body like this, with his cock curved towards the ceiling and his heart in his throat, every scrap of experience he has seems to fly out the window. His mind is completely blank.

"Don't sweat it," Dean repeats. "It's not gonna hurt, I promise."

The moment his fingers brush the tight ring of muscle between Dean's cheeks, he's overcome with a blinding sense of arousal. A half groan, half gasp escapes Dean's mouth, his hips bucking unconsciously at the slight touch. It's quite possibly the raunchiest thing he's ever seen before in his life. Not that's he complaining…

"Is that, um… A-Are you okay?"

"Just do it, Cas."

He can hardly refuse such a request, especially when Dean's voice is dripping with desire. He pushes his fingers in slowly, listening out for any signs that Dean is in pain, until his knuckles are touching the cleft of his ass. The moan of approval on Dean's end prompts him to add a third finger. He can't contain a shudder of excitement at the feeling of Dean tightening around his fingers, the walls of heat closing in as he finds that sweet little spot that really makes him cry out.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean drapes an arm over his eyes. "Do that again."

Again, he can't resist that voice. He does as he's told again and again until beads of precum are glistening at the tip of Dean's cock. They're both gasping at this point, Dean's shoulders sticky with sweat as Castiel kisses the base of his throat. If he doesn't do something soon, he's pretty sure he'll come from just watching the rosy-cheeked look of pleasure on Dean's face.

"I need you," Dean groans, almost as if he read his mind. "I need you right fuckin' now, Cas."

"Okay. Just, um… Just wait there!"

He tears the condom open with his teeth (he saw that in a movie once) and stares down at the bright blue ring with a frown. Out of all the schools he's been to in his life, not one of them taught sex education. He understands the importance of contraception, but how to actually _use_ it? Not so much.

"You okay there, bud?"

"I… I-I don't -"

"Here," Dean holds his shaking hands and takes the condom. "S'okay. I'll do it."

He's not sure if he's embarrassed or turned on as Dean carefully rolls it over his penis, pinching the top as he slowly brings the ring down to the base. He tries to ignore the little spark of jealousy at the thought of Dean doing this with other people in the past, but he can't seem to get over the fact that he'll never be Dean's first. So what if he's one of those sentimental suckers who cares about things like that? He just wishes that he'd met Dean years ago, so they could have avoided all of the unnecessary drama from these past few months. At least he'll be the first boy to ever be with him in _this_ way, which is both incredible and terrifying at the same time.

"Alright," Dean grins up at him. "You ready?"

Castiel can only nod his head and take a deep breath as he positions himself. If he tried to speak right now, he's pretty sure that nothing but gibberish would come tumbling out. He can't even keep his eyes open as he slowly pushes in, hands gripping Dean's knees a little too tightly as he focuses on not losing his mind. The sensation is overwhelming; the wet heat squeezing around him has his heart pounding against his ribcage. He's definitely not going to last very long at this rate.

"Cas," Dean's hand is suddenly on his cheek, forcing him to open his eyes. He's gritting his teeth to keep himself from coming undone, but Dean seems fine - _happy_ even. "Hey, don't panic. I love you, okay?"

Castiel still can't speak, but he can just about manage a smile.

It takes him a few moments to ready himself, and then he starts to move. The pressure is unbearable at first - he's convinced he's not going to make it - but then Dean whispers against the shell of his ear, and the tight bundle of nerves in his stomach melts into something warm and wonderful. This isn't something to be scared about; this is him making love to the boy he wants to spend the rest of his life with. He should savour this moment, appreciate it for all its beautiful flaws, and not fear the unknown. His whole relationship with Dean has been about making it up as they go along, so maybe that's what he should do right now.

"Cas," Dean drags his nails across his shoulder blades. "Fuck, just like that."

God knows how long they stay like that, with Dean clutching at Castiel's back as he continues to rock inside of him over and over again. The whole thing is a blur of teeth and lips and fumbling hands; he doesn't even realize he's been moaning Dean's name until the desperate cries of 'fuck, Cas' answer his pleas. He can barely breathe as the coils of pleasure begin to tighten in his groin, his hips stuttering as he quickly reaches the edge.

"D-Dean… Dean, I -"

"Yeah, Cas. Come for me, baby. Fuck, Cas. _Come for me_ …"

He doesn't need any further invitation. He bites down on Dean's shoulder as he finally hits his peak, cock twitching as he spills into Dean with a drawn out groan that will probably make his throat sore in a few hours' time. He can feel the tell-tale stickiness painting his stomach just seconds later, something he'd probably find disgusting if he wasn't still coming down from his high. He doesn't really care about the quickly-drying mess anyway, not when he's just found himself a new frontrunner for the greatest moment of his life.

"Woah," Dean chuckles hysterically once Castiel's pulled out of him, his body still trembling as he flops against his boyfriend's chest. "That was, uh… That was frickin' awesome."

Castiel gives him a lazy smile. "It really was."

"We should do that again. Like, right now. All day. For the rest of our _lives_ , goddamit!"

"I fully concur."

"Better gimme a sec though… I think you mighta broke my ass."

Castiel's eyes widen. "Are you serious?!"

"No, I'm not serious, you idiot."

"Don't _do_ that, Dean!"

"Sorry," He chuckles again. "Like I said: you're just too damn easy. I can't help it."

Castiel rolls his eyes, albeit affectionately, and snuggles into Dean's shoulder. He smells like sex, if that's even possible, all sweaty and reeking of bodily fluids. But it's just so nice and warm in this position; he can't find the motivation to get up and clean them both, not at the risk of breaking this perfect little cocoon they've created. He could stay in this bed for an entire week if there was nothing else to do.

"Jody doesn't want me," He mumbles as Dean starts stroking his bare shoulder. "She doesn't want boys. They wouldn't tell me why, just that it was personal."

Dean kisses the top of his head. "M'sorry, Cas. You should've told me."

"This was the agreement."

"Touché," Dean smiles. "I just don't want you keepin' stuff like that to yourself. It's not healthy, Cas."

"You're right. I'm sorry about earlier."

"It's forgotten."

Castiel props his chin on Dean's chest and looks up at him. "If they have to send me away - I mean, if Teresa can't find me somewhere local - will you… will you wait for me?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

"Well, yes."

Dean sighs, sitting up slightly and resting his head against the wall. "Why the hell would I wanna go find someone else when I've got the best frickin' guy right here in my bed?"

"So is that a yes?"

"Of course it is," Dean brushes a thumb across his cheek. "I'll always wait for you, Cas."

He doesn't get the chance to enjoy the beautiful simplicity of this moment before his phone starts ringing somewhere outside the door. It must have dropped out of his pocket when Dean was stripping him; he hadn't really thought about it at the time.

"You better get that," Dean stretches his arms above his head. "Might be somethin' important."

Castiel groans. "Or it could be nothing."

"Don't be a lazy sonofabitch."

"I'm comfy."

"C'mon," Dean slaps his ass and throws the covers onto the floor. "What if it's Teresa callin' about one of the foster families?"

He can hardly argue with that logic. It's a real struggle, but he somehow manages to crawl out of the bed and grab his phone before it goes to voicemail. He hopes the 'I just had sex' isn't too obvious in his voice as he picks it up and mumbles hello down the line because, again, that would be humiliating. But all worries about the state of his voice are quickly subdued when he hears Luke on the other end.

"Cassy?" He says with an ounce of smugness to his words. "You might wanna get yourself over here ASAP. I just found your friend Gilda, and she's here waiting for you."

* * *

The knowing smirk on Luke's face when he and Dean arrive at Opal Grove is enough to make him blush; with Castiel wearing his boyfriend's shirt, and Dean's hair resembling a bird's nest, they couldn't be any more obvious if they tried. But all he really cares about right now is talking to Gilda, so bearing the embarrassment of his brother's inevitable teasing will just have to wait.

"Where is she?" He asks.

"In the rec room. She's in a bad way."

Castiel side-glances Dean, then shoulders past Luke down the corridor. He should probably get his crutches back now (after recent activities, he really needs to give his stomach wound a rest) but he doesn't have time to worry about that at this moment in time. He can bite his tongue through the pain for just a few minutes, until he's given Gilda the closure she deserves. Besides, the last thing he needs is Dean going into concerned parent mode; he really needs to concentrate and keep it together if he's going to get through this.

The girl sitting on the couch is elegantly beautiful. Her long nose, dark eyes, and curls of toffee-coloured hair remind him of some kind of fairy from those books he used to read Anna as a kid. When she spots him standing there, she flinches, hand flying to her heart. He can tell by the frightened 'o' of her lips that this whole situation is making her pretty jumpy - not that he blames her.

"It's okay," He holds his hands up in a placating manner. "I'm Castiel, Dorothy's friend."

Gilda's throat ripples, but she slowly relaxes in her seat.

"My brother said he found you? How -"

"He turned up at my house," She says in a mousy kind of voice. "He said he found my profile on some website, and then he tracked me down. I didn't even know that was possible."

"The internet is a dangerous place."

"Yes," Gilda looks down at her hands and purses her lips. "Your brother… He told me what happened. I didn't… I-I didn't know. We saw it on the news, but I never thought that Dorothy was… I just thought she's got bored of me, and that's why the messages had stopped coming."

Castiel shakes his head. "No. No, Dorothy liked you very much. She talked about you all the time."

"She did?"

"Yes," He smiles. "She didn't have much hope to hold onto, but I think you were it."

Gilda's jaw quivers as she holds a tissue against her nose. "How… How did she die? W-Was it quick?"

Castiel sucks in a breath. He remembers how the guards dragged Dorothy's limp body back to their cell, throwing her onto the floor like a lump of meat. He remembers the way she whimpered in her sleep, so sore from her wounds that she could barely talk. The honest to god truth is that no, her death was not quick, but how can he tell Gilda what really happened without making it worse for both of them?

"She saved me," He says instead. "She always looked after me in there, made sure I never gave up. This one time, she showed me a way out of our cell. We found a phone; I was able to call my boyfriend. He was the one who rescued me. That was the night Dorothy died."

A tear glides down Gilda's cheek, her eyes blinking quickly as Castiel continues to speak.

"She was very brave. She was braver than all of us put together," He tries to smile again, but it's like his lips are too heavy to lift. "Telling you the truth, that was her final wish. She wanted you to know she really cared."

Gilda wrings her hands together and sniffs. "She was always so sweet to me. Most girls lost interest after a few weeks, but Dorothy never did. We talked for hours every night. I could tell her anything! I'd never had a friend who really understood me before I met her… I thought maybe one day we could meet in person, and then… Well, I'm not sure what would have happened then. My parents still don't know I'm gay."

"Why won't you tell them?"

"They're religious," She dabs the corner of her eye with her tissue. "Not the crazy kind of religious, but they go to church on Sundays and things like that. I have no idea how they'd react, but after what happened to Dorothy, I'm not sure I _want_ to know."

"The people who kept us prisoner in that place, they're the minority. You'd be surprised how many people don't actually care about homosexuality nowadays."

"I can't take that risk."

Castiel presses his lips together. He can understand Gilda's hesitance, especially after hearing the news of Dorothy's death. He can't even imagine what she's going through right now. He might have lost a friend, but Gilda lost the one person who really understood her, the one person she might have grown to love someday. He doesn't even want to think about losing Dean; the very idea makes him sick to his stomach.

"She really liked you," That's all he can say. "Please don't think she abandoned you."

Gilda looks him in the eye for all of five seconds before breaking down. She puts her head in her hands and weeps, body shaking with every sob that shudders through her. Castiel isn't sure what the best course of action is right now, but his feet automatically carry him towards the couch. Luckily she doesn't resist when he puts a hand on her shoulder and guides her into his arms, resting her head against his chest as the tears keep gushing down her cheeks. He strokes the back of her hair the way Dean does when he's having an attack, and the soothing gesture seems to calm her down slightly. Her cries soon dissolve into a fit of little coughs and hiccups, her grip on his - well, _Dean's_ \- shirt loosening as she slowly pulls away.

"Thank you," She whimpers. "You're very kind."

"I'm just glad I could do what Dorothy asked of me. She would've hated for you to never know the truth."

Gilda tucks her tissue into her pocket with shaking hands and pulls out a phone.

"Could I maybe call you sometime?" She asks in a whisper, like she's not sure whether or not she's being too forward. "It's okay if you don't want to, it would just be nice to talk to someone who knew Dorothy in person. We could help each other out, try and get to know her better maybe?"

Castiel takes the proffered phone with a watery smile. "I'd like that."

When Gilda leaves Opal Grove that night, he feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. For the first time since he got stabbed, he feels like he's finally starting to let go of that awful place. He thought that talking about Dorothy would make him sad, but it actually made him feel proud - _proud_ that he got to know such an amazing person in such a short space of time, _proud_ that he was able to survive Lilith's torments, _proud_ that he was able to think back on his time there without freezing up or going mad. Maybe he really is strong enough to get past this one day, to live a normal life without constantly picturing Dorothy's dead body on that bed. He can see a bright future glittering in the wake of all this tragedy, the fresh start he's been longing for.

"You okay?" Dean squeezes his shoulder as he watches Gilda disappear down the path.

"Yeah," He smiles up at him and takes a deep breath. "Yeah, I think I am."

* * *

It's later that night, while he and Dean are watching a movie with Anna and Luke in the hall, that Bobby comes to see him. He's got that look on his face, the one that means he's about to break some kind of news. He was happy watching Anna and Luke getting along, throwing popcorn and acting like a normal brother and sister, so of course something bad was bound to happen. Nothing ever stays good for too long, does it?

"What's wrong?" He asks before Bobby gets the chance to speak.

"Well, damn, son. Ain't you the optimist."

"Did Teresa call you?"

"No," Bobby scratches the top of his head and shrugs. "But Jody did. She said the agency gave her a call this afternoon, told her you 'n Anna were interested in meetin' up with her. She's comin' around to see you sometime next week."

Castiel furrows his brow. "But… But she doesn't want any boys. That's what Teresa said."

"How d'you know she ain't gonna change her mind?"

"But -"

"Look, Castiel. That woman lost her eight year old son a few years back. Why d'you think she's wary about takin' in another boy again?"

Castiel snaps his mouth shut; he'd never even thought about that.

"Jody's good people," Bobby carries on. "So don't go throwin' her outta yer head before you've even met her, okay? If you want her to give you a chance, you better damn well give _her_ one first."

"Why can't I adopt them?" Luke suddenly pipes up. "I'm going to be eighteen in a couple of weeks. I could file for legal custody."

Bobby snorts. "I ain't gonna answer that question for obvious reasons, boy."

Luke looks offended for a moment, but then he shrugs the insult off with an accepting nod. As much as Castiel cares about his newfound brother, he knows as well as anyone that he's not exactly father material.

"But what if she doesn't like me?" Castiel asks.

Dean gives his shoulder a gentle shove. "What's not to like?"

"Don't go worryin' yourself about that, son," Bobby flicks the peak of his cap and turns to leave. "Just be yourself, okay? Ain't nothin' else you can do."

As soon as he steps outside, Anna and Luke carry on watching the movie as if nothing happened. Castiel, on the other hand, is now crawling with worry. His and Anna's future rests on that meeting with Jody, and if she decides that he's not worth the trouble, then they're both screwed. He just wishes he could makes things easier for Anna's sake, but he can't help it if he has a penis between his legs. If Jody really is as wonderful as Bobby keeps making out, then surely she'll be able to look past that minor detail, right?

"Hey, don't worry about it," Dean threads their fingers together. "She's gonna love you."

Castiel swallows thickly and squeezes Dean's hand.

"I hope you're right," He says with a sigh. "For _all_ our sakes."


	29. Chapter 29

**Yay for sappiness! I can't believe that this is the penultimate chapter... We have just one more to go, plus the epilogue, and then we're done. It's gonna be pretty sad letting this story go, but I'm sort of relieved at the same time. It's been nice giving these characters a happy ending. I guess you could call it bittersweet. Please leave a review if you can! Thank you so much, guys :)**

* * *

Jody Mills is an interesting character. With her cropped hair and sharp face, Castiel can't help but feel a little intimidated as she walks through the door. He half expected her to be in her uniform, dressed in khaki clothes and covered in shiny badges, but maybe that was a little narrow-minded of him. Instead, she's wearing a pale plaid shirt over a pair of grey jeans. There's nothing about her that screams 'cop', besides the way she walks with her back straight and head held high. He gets the feeling that she's the kind of person who doesn't take any nonsense from anyone. But her eyes are kind, and that's all that really matters when she's staring right at him.

"This is Castiel," Bobby says as Jody continues to stare. "And this is his sister, Anna. Oh, and you know Dean, Castiel's boyfriend. They're attached at the hip, I'm tellin' ya."

"It's nice to meet you," Anna steps forward and takes Jody's hand, smiling her signature smile of sweetness that no adult is immune to.

Jody tears her eyes away from Castiel and returns the gesture. "Well, hello there. You must be Anna."

"That's me."

"Aren't you a beautiful young lady?"

Anna's smile turns giddy. "Why, thank you!"

"That red hair of yours is pretty cool. I bet all the boys are flocking after you, right?"

"I don't have time for boys," Anna says with a decisive nod, but her cheeks still turn pink at the idea. "I think a woman is highly capable of being happy by herself."

Jody side-glances Bobby and chuckles. "That's the attitude I like to hear."

"It's good to see you, Jody," Dean smiles when she turns their way again, shaking her hand just like Anna did. "How long's it been now?"

"Just over two years," Jody says with a smirk. "Last time I saw you was at your daddy's 40th birthday party. You were trying to break the world record for the world's highest burger, but you ate the damn thing before you even got the fourth patty stacked."

Castiel huffs a laugh. "That sounds like Dean."

"Oh, so his monster appetite's still just as strong, huh?"

"Definitely."

Jody offers Castiel her hand and smiles, though the light in her eyes has dimmed somewhat. "It's good to meet you, Castiel. Bobby's told me all about you."

"It's good to meet you too," His entire body is shaking as he clasps Jody's hand. "Thank you so much for agreeing to meet us. It means a lot."

"Well, thank _you_ for asking to see me in the first place. You sure know how to make a girl feel special."

Castiel forces a smile. "You're welcome."

"You wanna sit?"

"Sure."

They all head to the rec room and spread themselves out on the four couches arranged in a square in the centre of the room. Castiel stays close to Dean, their legs brushing as they take a seat opposite Jody. He can barely look her in the eye as she starts asking them questions, things about their hobbies and friends, and what they're studying at school at the moment.

Castiel can't even remember the last time he went to school; he was classed as a dangerous case due to his 'suicidal tendencies', so Opal Grove was more or less his prison for three whole months. Not that he didn't grow to love it there. He just seems to have forgotten what it's like to live a normal life, and he can't help but fear that Jody can sense that. She must think he's so desperate for specifically requesting her, as if only the likes of a lonely cop would ever be willing to take him in. She can probably smell the cowardice on him, the utter desolation seeping through his very pores… He's so pathetic.

"What about you two?" Jody suddenly interrupts his self-pitying train of thought. "How did Dean Winchester end up dating one of his mom's patients? Last I heard, you were gushing over some Amara chick."

Dean rolls his eyes. "C'mon, Jody! I was like _eight_ … She was my damn babysitter, for Christ's sake."

"Aw, I'm just messing with you, Dean. But seriously; I really wanna know how two met."

Castiel can't seem to open his mouth. A part of him doesn't want to tell Jody anything about their relationship, like they'd be revealing some big secret to a stranger. He knows he's just being paranoid, but the thought of sharing those precious memories with the very person with whom his future lies in the balance makes him want to vomit. He can't handle all this fake kindness, with everyone avoiding the elephant in the room.

"He knocked us both on our asses the first time we met," Dean says with an adorably sappy kind of smile. "He wasn't lookin' where he was goin', ran smack bam into me in the corridor. Then he just stood there and stared at me, didn't say a word until I snapped my fingers right in his face. Guess my dashin' good looks were too much for the poor guy to comprehend."

Jody scoffs. "Oh, really? That true, Castiel?"

He doesn't say a word, just avoids Jody's gaze and shrugs his shoulders.

"Uh… Castiel's kinda shy," Anna awkwardly tries to justify his silence. "Don't take it personally."

"No, that's alright."

"You good?" Dean whispers against his ear, squeezing his hand as Anna and Jody start a new conversation about some school project Anna was working on last year.

Castiel swallows thickly. "I… I don't think I can do this."

"Yes, you can. You're doin' fine."

"She hates me."

"No, she doesn't, Cas. You're just bein' paranoid."

"She thinks I'm weird."

"Well, you _are_ a little weird," Dean chuckles softly. "But that's what I like about you. That's what we _all_ like about you, okay? There's nothin' wrong with bein' different."

"But I'm the _bad_ kind of different."

"No, you're not."

Castiel's nails skim the palms of his hands, slicing thin cuts along his veins. The light is back in Jody's eyes as she talks to Anna, the way a mother seems to shine from the inside when she's with her child. He doesn't blame her for not feeling that same kind of light when she's around him.

"D'you wanna get outta here?" Dean asks, gently pushing Castiel's fingers away from his own hands. "Jody won't mind. You should probably get some rest."

"I'm not leaving yet," Castiel grits his teeth and turns to Jody. "What do you think about me being gay?"

The question slips out before he really gets the chance to think about what he's asking. He knows how it must sound; he's practically asking her whether or not she's homophobic. The rational part of his brain tells him that no, of course she's not, but what little rationality he has right now is being drowned out by the waves of fear and paranoia sloshing about in his mind. He sees the way the light dims in her eyes once again, and another piece of his heart crumbles away. Jody Mills doesn't want him. Why would _anybody_ want him?

"Castiel!" Anna admonishes him. "Why would you even -"

"No, it's fine," Jody gives Anna a small smile and fixes her eyes on Castiel. The light is still gone, but there's something else there now - something warm, and maybe a little understanding. "I get why he asked me. I mean, it's a damn good question after all."

Castiel licks his lips and takes a deep breath. "I can't live with someone who… who _tolerates_ me for who I am. Not after everything that's happened. I've spent too many years feeling ashamed of myself for things I can't control, but I won't do it anymore. I'm tired of hiding away. So if you can't _deal_ with me because I'm gay, then… Maybe we should just end this right now, before it gets too far."

Jody leans across the space between them, but keeps her hands in her lap. "I'm not homophobic, Castiel. As far as I'm concerned, love is love, and to hell with anyone who thinks otherwise."

"You might just be saying that."

"And why would I lie?"

"I don't know," He wrings his hands together, relaxing at the feeling of Dean's arm against his own. "People lie for all sorts of reasons. All I know is that you don't really want me; you don't want _boys_. But I want to make this work for my sister's sake, so I'll do almost anything I can to make you change your mind. Anything but pretend to be someone I'm not."

A shadow falls over Jody's face, throat rippling as she sits back in her chair.

"I'd never ask you to do that," She says quietly. "And as for not _wanting_ you… I'm sorry if that's what you think, but it's not true. The things that happened to me in the past… I could never blame a kid for that. You're just looking for a lifeline, and that's something I can appreciate."

Castiel stares down at his feet. "My apologies… I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories."

"No need to apologise," Jody gives him a watery smile and stands up. "But maybe we should call it a day. I've got a heck load of paperwork to sort out before tomorrow, so I best be off."

"But you only just got here!" Anna cries.

Jody blinks her eyes a few times, then turns to Anna with a chuckle. "Oh, don't you worry. This isn't the last you'll see of me."

"Does that mean you're going to foster us both?"

"Well, I'd like to see you again," Jody brushes herself down with a sigh, giving Castiel a pointed look as she says, " _Both_ of you, I mean."

Castiel frowns. "Do you even know what happened to me?"

"I do."

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"I'm a cop," Jody shrugs a shoulder. "Number one rule is that the victim's not to blame. We'd be living in a screwed up world if you were gonna get further punished for the things your uncle did to you."

They hold each other's gaze for a long moment. It's like they're silently communicating in a way that no one else in the room can understand. The joyful glint in her eyes when she was talking to Anna has been swapped for something akin to respect, and Castiel can almost believe that they're really having a moment right now. He might not be as cute and likeable as his sister, but Jody can see the pain and suffering he's been through, and she still manages to treat him like a human being. He only hopes that it's not spawned from sympathy or guilt; he wants Jody to like him for who he is, not because she thinks he's some wounded puppy looking for a new home. Maybe she'd like him better if he hadn't accused her of being homophobic, or reminded her of the most heart-breaking period of her entire existence. If only his people skills weren't so rusty.

"I'll show you out," Bobby goes to get up, but Jody slaps him on the shoulder and huffs.

"Sit down, you old hoot. I'm not a geriatric just yet."

Jody casts her eyes around the room once more, resting on Castiel for half a second longer than everyone else, before finally saying her peace and disappearing down the corridor. As soon as she's gone, Castiel deflates like a popped balloon and sinks back in his chair, gripping Dean's arm impossibly tight as he closes his eyes. He's overcome with a cold sense of dread, the choking concern that he might have driven Jody away with his overly paranoid behaviour. Why couldn't he have just been normal for once? He should've sucked up any suspicions he had for Anna's sake, not make everything about him again. _God_ , he's so selfish.

"Stop freakin' out, okay?" Dean brushes his lips against Castiel's temple. "I thought it went pretty well. You did _good_ , Cas."

"I can't believe I messed everything up so soon."

"Hey. Quit talkin' crazy."

"I was so… _hostile_."

"You're allowed to be a little touchy, Cas. I mean, the crap you've been through… No one's expectin' you to just warm up to the first person they throw at you. You've just gotta give it time, man."

Castiel turns his face and brings their lips together, kissing Dean softly and sweetly (he doesn't want things to get too heated with his sister sat right over there). The lingering taste of pancakes on Dean's tongue makes him smile, filling his mind with images of Dean cooking breakfast with a pink apron in their future house, humming out of tune to some 80's rock song. The very idea is enough to make his heart flutter.

"Can you drive me somewhere? I need to buy a few things."

Dean quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't ask any questions. He's never one to push him when he's feeling down or vulnerable like this; Castiel loves that about him.

"Sure," Dean gives him one last peck on the lips, then helps him to his feet. "Where to, Cas?"

* * *

The streets are filled with just the right amount of people - enough to make them blend into the crowd, but not too many that Castiel gets overwhelmed. It's a nice day, so he expected there to be a few afternoon shoppers still hanging about. It feels so good to tilt his head towards the sun and let the warmth caress his cheeks, something he was never able to do in that cold, dusty cell of his. Sometimes he doesn't really believe that he's out; he has to nuzzle into Dean's warm embrace just to convince himself that he's not an illusion, that he's really walking beside him and not still searching tirelessly for that godawful place. This newfound freedom is a lot to take in at times, especially when no one around them seems to care that Dean is now holding his hand.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" He whispers, though his grip instinctively tightens anyway. "There could be all sorts of people watching us."

Dean bends down to press a feather light kiss against the crease of his nose.

"No one's watchin'," He says. "And even if they were, why the hell would they care? It's the 21st century, Cas. The world's got a whole lotta problems, but two guys holdin' hands sure ain't one of them."

Castiel sighs. "Your optimism is astounding."

"Just statin' the facts."

"Well, fine," He glances around him a few times before giving Dean a quick kiss on the lips. They're in the middle of a moving crowd, so _someone's_ bound to have seen them… But the world doesn't end, and no pitch forks are being thrown their way, so maybe Dean's right; maybe they really _don't_ care.

"See?" Dean grins, sliding his tongue over his bottom lip seductively. "If you really wanna turn some heads, we should probably do somethin' a little more R-rated, if you know what I mean."

Castiel shoves him away half-heartedly. "Yes, I know what you mean. But we're not doing that in public."

"Spoilsport."

"Enough messing around, Dean. We need to find Luke a present."

"Yeah, yeah… Wanna take a rain check?"

Castiel chuckles. "If you help me find the perfect gift for a brooding eighteen year old with mild anger issues, then I'll be sure to reward you generously afterwards."

"Sounds like a plan. So what's Luke even in to, anyway?"

Castiel thinks about this for a moment, but ultimately draws a blank. He hadn't realized up until now how little he knows his own brother, besides snippets of his childhood and whatever he's learnt in the short time they've bonded since he escaped almost three weeks ago now. Honestly, he has no idea where to start when it comes to present-hunting for Luke. He might have to settle for some novelty crap from the gift store across the road at this point, not that Luke would mind… It's the thought that counts, right?

"I guess I could buy him a book."

"What does he read?"

"Um…"

Dean drapes an arm around Castiel's shoulders and laughs. "How about we just wander around and see what we can find? There's gotta be somethin' your emo brother likes."

"Don't call him that, Dean."

"What did I say?"

"Just… be nice, will you? For me? I want to make this birthday special for him. He's never had a real family before in his life. He _deserves_ this."

Dean purses his lips, then rolls his eyes fondly. "How the hell can I resist that face?"

"I promise to make it up to you tonight."

"Mhm," Dean waggles his eyebrows. "I'll hold you to that."

They start their search in a small clothes shop, despite Castiel knowing absolutely nothing about fashion. The shelves are stacked with button down shirts, skinny jeans, and countless cardigans and dungarees hanging from metal racks all around the store. Dean tells him they're far too 'hipster' for someone like Luke. He has no idea what that means, but he really couldn't care less. The fact that clothes now have different styles and labels for certain types of people is news to him. He always thought that getting dressed was as simple as throwing on whatever you have that's clean and available, but apparently it's more complex than that.

"Perhaps you should try less layers," He says to Dean, raking his eyes over the numerous bulky garments hiding his boyfriend's delicious frame. "Surely you don't wear all of that in the summer?"

Dean picks at his leather jacket and gives Castiel a smirk. "You just wanna see me strip, don't ya?"

"Well, I certainly wouldn't be complaining."

"Maybe I'll give you a show tonight, right after I claim my reward."

"That's if you actually help me _find_ something," Castiel points out. "You're really not much help, you know?"

"S'not my fault I don't know anythin' about your brother."

"Neither do I!"

"Okay," Dean steers him out of the shop and across the road. "Let's just get him somethin' cheap 'n cheerful. You can't go wrong with a whoopee cushion."

Castiel frowns. "What the hell is that?"

"Oh, don't worry. It's a very classy gift, I promise."

"It doesn't sound it."

"Okay. It makes fart noises when you sit on it… But c'mon! It's comedy gold!"

Castiel chuckles at the boyish grin on Dean's face. "You seriously have the mind of a child."

"Nah. Just a good sense of humour."

"A _child's_ sense of humour."

"Shaddup and start lookin', will ya?"

Castiel shakes his head with a smile as they step into the gift store he spotted earlier on. The shop is fairly narrow, with dark brown shelves and purple walls. There are all sorts of things spotted around the place - from magic sets, to bouncy balls, to foreign candy, to super-sized cuddly toys that stand almost as high as his shoulders. Nothing real stands out as an appropriate present for Luke's eighteenth birthday, but the store is far more interesting than anywhere else they've been today.

"This is awesome," Dean says as he turns over a packet of popping candy in his hand. "We should buy some of that fake dog crap and hide it under Luke's pillow."

"I'm sure he'd appreciate that."

They wander around the store for another ten minutes or so, laughing at the strange array of 'packet 'o practical jokes' lining one side of the shop. He can only imagine what kind of havoc Gabe would get up to if he ever got his hands on any of this stuff; they'd probably all wake up with rainbow coloured hair knowing him.

But even with all the weird gifts to poke fun at, Castiel can't seem to share Dean's enthusiasm right now. There's something that's been playing on his mind for quite some time, and he's not exactly sure how to bring it up. Dean is most definitely the most important guy in his life at the moment, but Luke is also his _brother_. He can't bear the thought of some silly feud between them making things awkward in the future. He doesn't want to lose either of them, but they can't keep avoiding the things that Luke did to Dean's family in the past.

"Thank you for helping me," Castiel approaches the subject carefully, sliding his hand down Dean's arm until their fingers thread together. "I know you and Luke aren't exactly _friends_ , but… It means a lot that you're putting that aside for his birthday."

Dean's smile turns stiff. "I'm doin' this for you, Cas."

"I know, I know… But you could've refused to help if it made you uncomfortable. I think you _not_ making a big deal out of it is good progress, right?"

"Is this your way of askin' me if I forgive him?"

Castiel sighs. "I just hate the thought of you two never getting along. I _want_ you to like each other."

Dean squeezes his hand. "Look, Cas… I'm never gonna forgive Luke for what he did. He hurt my mom, and that's not okay. But I can kinda see why he did it now, and I… Well, I guess I don't hate the guy as much as I used to. I mean, he helped me find you. How the hell can I go on hatin' him when he brought you back to me? Plus, he's your family, which sorta makes him _mine_ in a way… So maybe, I dunno… Maybe we'll be friends one day. But right now… Well, I'm just really frickin' grateful for what he did."

"That's all I can ask," Castiel kisses Dean softly, smiling against his lips. "I love you."

"Love you too," Dean says with a lopsided grin. "Okay. No more chick-flick moments... Let's just find this damn present and get outta here so I can get my reward."

"If you keep going on about it, you _won't_ get it."

"No fair! That wasn't part of the deal."

Castiel opens his mouth to reply, but then his eyes land on something on the opposite end of the store. He doesn't hesitate before dragging Dean down the corridor, winding their way around a tower of travel-sized board games and almost tripping over a pogo stick laying across the floor. He may not know Luke as well as he'd like to, but something tells him that this is the best present he could hope to find him. He's so excited, his hands are actually shaking as he picks it up and shows it to Dean.

"This is it," He says, letting out a sigh of relief. "This will be perfect."

* * *

It was Anna's idea to go camping for Luke's birthday. After hearing so many stories about the Winchesters' yearly camping trips, she was very insistent on going. If it wasn't for her expert puppy dog eyes (Dean's adamant she learnt that from Sam), Bobby probably wouldn't have caved and let them go. They're under strict instructions to check in every couple of hours, and they're only allowed as far as the woods outside Opal Grove where they picked their Christmas tree last year, but Castiel's grateful for the small dose of normalcy. His family was never very conventional, so things like family holidays are unfamiliar to him. He's just glad he's able to experience it with his _real_ friends and family for the first time.

"Where exactly are we going?" Charlie asks in a whisper, the chill of the evening air making her teeth chatter. "We've been walking for hours… Are you sure we're not lost?"

"Relax, Red," Gabe says around a mouthful of marshmallows. "It's only been fifteen minutes."

"Maybe we should leave a trail of M&Ms in case no one can find us."

"I'm not wasting precious cargo!"

" _Guys_ ," Dean steps in between them, holding Gabe an arm's length away. "Both of you, _shut up_. We're just lookin' for a decent place to set up camp."

Charlie tucks a stray hair behind her ear. "But what if we get eaten by bears?"

"There's aren't any bears in these woods, Charlie."

"But -"

" _Trust me_. You're not gonna get eaten."

Charlie looks doubtful, but thankfully does as she's told and shuts up. Castiel's not sure he could deal with hers and Gabe's constant wining for much longer. He's starting to question why he even invited them along. He wanted his friends to bond with Luke, to make things a little less awkward, but all they've done so far is bicker. Luke is way ahead of the group, holding Anna on his shoulders while they search for a good spot. Castiel can't deny how happy seeing his two siblings getting along makes him feel; he was worried that Anna's cheerfulness would clash with Luke's gloomy attitude, but their difference in personality actually brings them closer together. He only wishes that Gabe and Charlie would make the effort to talk to him as well.

"So, what's the deal with Lucifer?" Gabe suddenly asks. "I mean, I know he's like, your _bro_ and everything, but is he a part of the gang now?"

Castiel shoots him a glare. "His name is _Luke_ , alright? Stop calling him Lucifer."

"Geez. Sorry, Cassy. Just asking a simply question."

"Well, the answer is _yes_. Luke and I are trying to get to know each other, so I guess you'll just have to put up with it. Is that going to be a problem?"

Gave holds his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. Keep your pants on."

"Why would I take them off?"

"Doesn't matter," Gabe huffs, grabbing Charlie's arm and dragging her over to Luke and Anna. "C'mon, Red! We better get started on those bonding exercises before Cassy kills us in our sleep!"

Castiel watches with an exasperated smile as Gabe and Charlie strike up a conversation with Luke. He can't see his brother's face, but he can only imagine his expression… The phrase 'opposites attract' is only true to a certain extent, so he seriously doubts that Gabe and Luke will become good friends anytime soon. But then again, he's been too quick to judge in the past, so who knows? Maybe they'll prove him wrong.

"Okay," Dean sidles up close to Castiel and sighs. "Now that your friends are gone, will you quit actin' all macho and let me carry your bag, please?"

"I told you, I'm fine."

"You're still recovering from a frickin' _knife_ wound, Cas. Just let me help you."

Castiel waves him off with a smirk. "You didn't seem too concerned about my health when you were claiming your prize the other night."

"That's not a fair comparison, man!"

"If I can go three rounds in bed with you without a break, then I can sure as hell carry my own bag."

Dean's look of concern quickly dissolves into a grin.

"You're messed up," He chuckles, winding an arm around Castiel's waist and kissing the base of his neck. "I'm carrying it out on the way back though. No negotiations, alright?"

Castiel smiles. "Fair enough."

They find a clearing a few minutes later and set up camp. Everyone's sharing a tent with someone - Luke with Gabe, Charlie with Anna, and Castiel with Dean. They all assigned each other jobs to do before leaving Opal Grove, and everyone gets to it without complaint. Gabe goes off to find some firewood while Luke and Charlie set up the tents. It's Dean's responsibility to keep in touch with Bobby and man the food (which is probably not a wise idea), and Anna's busy looking after Castiel. He hates being babied - especially by his little sister - but the pain in his right side is starting kick up again, so he's grateful for the rest. It takes them an hour or so to get everything sorted, and then they're sitting around the fire as the last of the sunlight slowly drains away.

"Time to spill," Gabe turns to Castiel once the conversation has hit a dead end. "Are you gonna tell us how it went with Jody the other day or what?"

Castiel unconsciously scoots closer to Dean and shrugs. "It was… okay. She said she wanted to see us again, so I guess that's a good sign."

"Did she ask you anything about you know what?"

"Um… No, not really."

"That's enough," Dean squeezes Castiel's shoulder and kicks Gabe in the shin. "Stop interrogatin' the poor guy. I thought you were gonna tell us some ghost stories anyway?"

Charlie squeaks. "Ghost stories? Aw, c'mon, dudes… I get nightmares really easily!"

"Suck it up, sister."

"This ought to be good," Luke raises an unimpressed eyebrow and leans back on his hands. "Proceed."

Castiel frowns. "Just make sure it's age appropriate for Anna."

"I'm not a _baby_ , Castiel! I can handle it."

"You tell him, Mini Red. You panic way too much, Cassy."

Dean chuckles, tucking Castiel into his side. "He's right, Cas. You've gotta loosen up a bit."

"But I -"

"Anna's a smart kid. She knows what she's gettin' herself into to."

"With Gabe, I'm not sure _anyone_ does."

"I resent that, Cassy!"

"Get on with it," Luke throws a handful of leaves at Gabe. "I'd rather not spend my first day of adulthood listening to you five prattling on all night."

Gabe plucks a leaf out of his hair and sighs. "There's really no need for such hostility, Lucy Liu."

"Never call me that again."

"Damn… I can see uptightness runs in the family."

Gabe goes on to tell them some elaborate story about a young girl who's home alone while her parents are out of town. Castiel isn't too phased by the tale, but Charlie is literally hiding behind her hair, and Anna is gripping Luke's arm with wide eyes. Gabe clearly loves all the attention; his hands are getting more animated the further he goes along, making Charlie jump with all his dramatic gestures. Castiel has to bite down on his tongue to keep himself from laughing out loud. He doesn't want to spoil the 'scary' atmosphere, after all.

"And just as she's about to fall asleep, she hears the drip, drip, dripping from the bathroom once again," Gabe holds the torch under his chin, casting an eerie shadow across his face. "So just like before, she puts her hand under the bed and feels for the warm, wet comfort of her dog's tongue against her fingers."

Castiel pulls a face. "I'm not sure I'd find that comforting."

"Shut up, Cassy," Gabe points a threatening finger in his direction. "So, anyway… It's past midnight now, and she can't _stand_ the dripping noise any longer. So she gets up and goes to the bathroom, turns on the light, and screams at the sight before her."

"What?!" Charlie cries. "What did she find?!"

"Her dog," Gabe presses the torch closer to his face. "The very dog she thought was under her bed the whole time, _hanging_ from the shower curtain! The blood from his neck slowly drip, drip, dripping onto the floor below…"

Anna slaps a hand over her mouth. "But... Who was licking her hand then?"

"AN AXE-MURDERER!"

Charlie and Anna both jump out of their skin as Gabe screams the last part in their faces, sending them flying backwards into the mud. Castiel muffles his laughter against Dean's sleeve, and Luke just sits there, looking bored out of his mind. The story of a dog-murdering psychopath who hides under people's beds isn't exactly the most delightful story he's ever heard, but that's what people do when they go camping, right? They scare themselves with ridiculous stories for no apparent reason. He just hopes that Anna doesn't end up having nightmares because of it. Then he'd _really_ feel like a bad brother.

"You seriously killed the dog off?" Dean wrinkles his nose. "That's just low, man."

"Hey, I didn't write it!"

"That story was absolutely dreadful," Luke gets to his feet with a yawn. "I've read scarier children's books."

Gabe scoffs. "Whatever, Lucy Liu. You were _definitely_ shaking."

"Oh, of course. I was paralysed with fear."

Castiel narrows his eyes. "I think he's being sarcastic."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"I'm going to make some tea," Luke scratches the back of his neck. "I can't listen to any more of this crap. Does anyone else want one?"

Dean suddenly elbows him sharply in the ribs, rather unsubtly nodding his head towards Castiel's bag. It takes him a couple of seconds to figure of what he's trying to say, but then he remembers the present he bought Luke a few days ago from the gift shop. He packed it with his things in the hopes that he'd get the chance to give it to Luke in private, but now is as good a time as any.

"Wait," He scrambles across the floor to grab his bag, carefully taking out the present he wrapped in tissue paper just before they left. "Use this."

Luke gives him a strange look as he takes the oddly shaped gift out of his hands and tears the paper away. He's worried for a moment that he might drop it out of shock (the way his eyes go comically wide tells him that he certainly wasn't expecting anything like this for his birthday) but thankfully his hands hold onto it tightly. Castiel sees the way his fingers curl around the handle of the mug, almost as if he's protecting it. The tissue paper slowly drifts to the ground, and Luke just stands there, staring at the big yellow face smiling up at him.

"Is this…"

"I know it's not an exact replica of the one our dad gave you," Castiel twiddles his thumbs anxiously. "But I thought you might like it. When you broke the first one, I wanted to fix it for you, but I never got the chance… Maybe it's better you have a new one altogether. I mean, you've got a new family now as well."

Luke looks up at him with bright eyes, hands trembling as he places the mug down on the floor. Castiel could swear he's about to kick it across the fire, destroy it like the last one, but he doesn't. Instead, he marches towards him, grabs him by the shoulders, and pulls him in for a hug. Castiel's too stunned to do anything at first; his hands just hover awkwardly over Luke's back, unsure of whether or not touching him is the best thing to do right now. But then he catches Dean smiling at them out of the corner and his eye, and that's enough to allow himself to relax a little, to throw his arms around his brother and hold him close.

It's the first time he's really believed that they can do this, that him, Luke, and Anna can be a real family together. He already knew that he had the Winchester's love and support, but Luke was never a certainty; he half expected him to up sticks and leave as soon as he turned eighteen. Now he sees how stupid that was of him to think. Luke is his family, and he's not going anywhere.

"Happy birthday, brother," He says as they break apart.

Luke scrubs a hand over his face and clears his throat. "Okay. Enough of that gooey nonsense… I'm going to go make us some tea, and then I'm going to tell you a _real_ ghost story."

"Oh, is that so?" Gabe puffs out his chest. "Challenge accepted!"

It's only afterwards, once everyone else is asleep, that Castiel gets to talk to Dean properly. The rest of the night was spent laughing and eating and playing stupid games, but now it's nice to finally sit here in the quiet, with nothing but the sound of Dean's breath slicing through the heavy silence surrounding them. There's the occasional scuffle and grunt of animals nearby, but all he's really focussed on is Dean. Nothing else seems to matter when he's lying in his boyfriends arms, completely closed off from the rest of the world.

"What're you thinkin' about?" Dean whispers against the back of his neck.

Castiel sighs. "Nothing… I guess I'm a little worried about Jody."

"Don't be. She loved you, Cas."

"She hasn't called."

"Give her time."

Castiel rolls over so he's facing Dean, their noses bumping in the dark. He likes to imagine that he can still count his freckles, almost as if they're glowing like real stars.

"I have something for you," He says. "It's in the bag."

Dean frowns, then reaches over for the rucksack and quietly roots around inside. Castiel can hear the wrapping paper crinkling under his fingers. He was going to go all out and buy him the proper, colourful stuff, but all he could manage was the brown paper he found under Bobby's desk. Still, it's better than just giving it to him bare. He wants to see the look on his face when he opens it.

"Cas, what -"

"I'm sorry I missed your birthday," He swallows thickly. "I was in that place, and we never got to celebrate, to spend it together. I'm so sorry, Dean."

"Hey. Don't you apologise," Dean brushes a thumb across his cheekbone. "It's not your fault, Cas."

"I know, but still… I wish I could've been there."

Dean huffs. "It's not as if you missed some big party… I didn't give a crap about my birthday. I was too busy lookin' for you."

"But that's not how it should've been," Castiel sighs. "Open your present. I want to make up for not being there."

"Cas, you don't -"

"I _want_ to, Dean. I really want to."

Dean mirrors his sigh, then slowly unwraps the present. When he sees the Pink Floyd logo peeking out from the paper, his eyes instantly tear up. He lifts the shirt up against his chest, throat rippling as he runs a hand across the soft new material. It has the signature prism on the front, with the band name running in bold letters across the top. Just like the mug, it's not exactly the same as his old shirt, but he hopes it's enough.

"I'm sorry I lost your shirt," He says, slowly reaching out to catch a stray tear rolling down his cheek. "Please don't cry, Dean."

And then a pair of lips are crashing against his own, hands pulling him flush against Dean's chest. He feels the shirt slip away between them, but he doesn't care; he's too lost in the feeling of Dean's nails running along his shoulder blades, fingers caressing the marred flesh of his back in a way that makes him feel special. He can hardly breathe when Dean finally pulls away, pressing their foreheads together and squeezing his eyes shut. He's so beautiful, even when he's red-eyed and tacky with tears.

"You really need to stop sayin' you're sorry for every damn thing."

"I'm… sorry?"

A watery laugh bubbles in Dean's chest, spluttering out in a croak as he kisses the top of Castiel's nose.

"You're such an ass," He sniffs. "I love you so frickin' much."

"I love you too."

Castiel's not quite sure how long they lie there, slowly exploring each other's mouths and mapping every inch of their skin, but he eventually falls into a deep, satisfying kind of sleep. Things might not be perfect right now, but they're the closest to normal they've ever been, and that makes sleeping easier. It's not so hard to close your eyes and be still when you know there's a good life waiting for you when you wake up.

* * *

He's surprised to find Jody Mills waiting on the porch of Opal Grove when they get back the next morning. They already dropped Anna off at the Winchesters' a few minutes ago, so it's just him - well, plus Dean and his friends, but their future doesn't rest on the shoulders of this woman, so it's not really a big deal for them.

"Hey, Castiel," Jody lifts her hand in greeting as they get closer. "D'you mind if I have a quick word?"

Dean leans forward and kisses him on the forehead. "I'll give you two some privacy."

"Thank you, Dean. I'll see you in a minute."

Jody watches him carry both of their bags into the building, then turns to Castiel with a smile. She looks like she hasn't slept properly in days; there are purple smudges beneath her eyes, and her clothes are terribly creased. But Castiel doesn't care about that sort of thing. He's just wary of Jody popping up like this out of nowhere, asking for a 'quick word'. He thought meetings like this were supposed to be arranged through Tessa. Not that he gives a damn about the rule book when it comes to finding him and Anna a decent home.

"You two make a cute couple," She says.

Castiel blushes and looks down at the ground. "Thank you."

"I just wanted to set the record straight, Castiel. I'm out of practice with the whole parenting thing. It's been five years since I lost my boy, and I… I saw your face, and you reminded me of him. I have no idea why - hell, you don't even look alike - but it sparked memories of that night, and it made talking to you really difficult, you know?"

"I understand," He shuffles his feet. "Bobby told me why you didn't want boys, but… I didn't know it was that bad. I thought maybe you'd change your mind once you'd met me."

Jody takes his hand. "I _have_ changed my mind, Castiel. Don't you get it?"

"I don't -"

"The things that happened to you… God, if I was more than just a small town cop, I'd have those bastards hanged for what they did. When the agency told me what you'd been through, I thought meeting you would be even harder, that I'd see your wounds, and I'd just… just think of that gun… I-I didn't want to raise either of our hopes, not if I wasn't strong enough to see it through."

Castiel swallows roughly. "But I was so rude to you. I asked you all those questions, and I made you out to be some horrible person. I shouldn't have done that."

"You were just trying to protect you and your sister. Why the hell would I resent you for that?"

"What… What does this mean?"

"I think it means we can help each other out," Jody squeezes his hand tighter. "Maybe we even need each other."

Castiel's breath hitches. "So you want to foster us both?"

"I do."

"This is crazy... I mean, this is going too fast!"

"I know," Jody pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. "I know, I just… I've been thinking about it ever since we met, and I can't help but feel that this is the best thing for both of us. I've been so damn lonely for so many years, Castiel, and I'm sick of it. I just wanna be a mother again; I wanna have a family."

Castiel glances over his shoulder. "My… My boyfriend… He -"

"You can see Dean as much as you like. Me and the Winchesters go way back."

"Jody, I really don't know what to say."

"I don't want you to say anything just yet," She lets go of his hand and smiles, a single tear slipping down her face. "I want you to think about it, and let me know when you're ready."

"I… I will."

"But don't think too hard. I wouldn't want you straining yourself."

Castiel laughs. "Okay."

"I guess I'll see you when I see you," Jody sucks in a breath, then steps off the porch. "Have a good day, Castiel. Say hi to your sister from me, will you?"

"Sure."

He feels like he's in a daze as he watches her walk away. He doesn't even hear Dean coming up beside him, not until he puts a hand on his shoulder and starts to speak.

"What was that all about?"

Castiel grabs Dean's hand and chuckles, the sound coming out hoarse as he tries to fight back the tears threatening to spill over at any second. He's not entirely sure what just happened, but he's pretty certain his life just changed for the better in that fleeting conversation. He went into the woods with no parents, and no official roof over his head, and now the whole package has seemingly dropped into his lap.

"I don't know," He shakes his head disbelievingly. "But I think I might've just found myself a home."


	30. Chapter 30

**This is the last chapter! Well, we've still got the epilogue to go, but this is the official ending to the story. It's been a pleasure writing this, and reading all your lovely feedback has made it 10x more enjoyable, so thank you! I really hope you find the ending satisfactory. Please leave a review if you get the chance! Thank you, guys :)**

* * *

Castiel still isn't sure what to think about this whole situation. Just a few weeks ago, their chances of finding a decent home for him and Anna seemed slim to none, but now it's just a matter of days before they officially move into Jody's house. When he had that conversation with Jody on the porch, he didn't _really_ think that anything would come of it, but here they are, about to have their first tour of their future home. He can hardly breathe as the door swings open, too scared that if he makes any sudden movements, this might all disappear. He has to grasp Dean's hand even tighter just to convince himself that this isn't all a dream.

"I know it's not much," Jody says as they all make their way inside. "But you'll both have your own room, and the garden's a decent size for all three of us."

Anna waves her arm in the air. "Bagsy picking my room first!"

"I don't mind," Castiel smiles at his sister's enthusiasm. "You can go ahead and pick."

He watches her shoot up the stairs, with Jody following close behind, and allows himself a moment to catch his bearings. Dean is right by his side, still holding his hand, so he doesn't feel too overwhelmed. He just can't believe that this is actually happening, that he and Anna have found a way to stay together without moving half way across the country. He's still waiting for the other shoe to drop - he's _always_ waiting for the other shoe to drop - but everything about this seems so definite, like maybe it's the real thing. He's so scared to raise his hopes in fear that this could all come crashing down around him again, but he wants so desperately to hold onto something as well. He just wants to have _faith_ for once.

"Hey," Dean touches his chin, gently turning his head to face him. "You've gotta calm down, man. I can see the cogs turnin'… You're overthinking things again, aren't ya?"

Castiel sighs. "I remember our agreement, don't worry; I need to stop being so paranoid all the time."

"This is real, Cas. This is actually happening."

"I know. It's just hard to really trust that after everything that I've… you know."

Dean slides his hand around the back of his neck, slowly pulling him close and sealing their lips together. Castiel's throat bobs at the light touch, fingers shaking as he reaches up to stroke Dean's face. His jaw is rough with stubble, and warm against his skin. It might not be much, but the simple act of having him close is enough to calm Castiel down and reignite the hope flaming in his chest.

"You're safe, baby," Dean whispers. "You're never goin' back to that place again, ya hear me? You can't let that crazy bitch stop you from enjoying this, okay?"

Castiel swallows thickly. "Okay."

"You wanna go check out your new room now?"

"Yes, please."

"C'mon," Dean presses a sloppy kiss against his temple and grins. "Anna might've left you with a frickin' broom closet, for all we know."

Lucky for him, his room is far from a broom closet. At Zachariah's house, he slept in what used to be a bathroom, renovated to a barely decent bedroom on the top floor of the building. The small window hardly let in any light, and the walls were a murky grey colour, spotted with mould. He never complained though; he had a bed, and a space of his own to hide from his uncle when things were bad. It never occurred to him that one day, he might have a real bedroom - with more than enough room for a desk and even a bookshelf - for no reason other than someone actually thinks he's worthy of one.

"Cas," Dean touches his shoulder cautiously. "You okay?"

There's a lump in his throat when he goes to speak. "I… I don't know what to say… Is this really mine?"

"Sure is," Jody smiles from the doorway, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. "What, did you think I was gonna make you sleep in a shed or something?"

"No! No, I just -"

"I'm only messing with you," She snorts. "Is this gonna be big enough for you?"

Castiel glances around the room again. It may not be overly huge, but it's the perfect size for him. He can just imagine how it could look with a little more care. He could paint the walls and hang posters, stock the shelves with as many books as he can afford, buy picture frames and fill them with photos of his family and friends… He could make this his own place - not just somewhere to lay low, but to feel safe and actually enjoy himself. The view from the window stretches out to the woods, reminding him how close they really are to Opal Grove and the Winchesters. It's quite high up, so sneaking Dean in and out might prove to be more difficult than he'd hoped, but they can figure that out. It just makes him feel better, knowing they're nearby; it's like he's not really going anywhere.

"It's great," He breathes. "Really, it's quite, um… I-I love it, thank you."

"Don't get yourself all tongue-tied," Jody teases. "I've made up some sandwiches downstairs. You hungry?"

Dean's eyes light up. "Starving!"

"I don't really need to ask _you_ that, do I?"

Castiel chuckles, looping his arm through Dean's and nodding his head. "I'm pretty starving myself."

"Well, c'mon then! We can all eat together, how's that sound?"

"Perfect."

They all sit down at the table with a plate of sandwiches and a jug of water in the middle. It's all so domestic; the sandwiches are cut into actual triangles, just like in the movies, and the placemats have little cartoon chickens running in a border around the outside. It's so unlike Jody, the badass cop, that Castiel can't help but laugh as he bites into the chicken sandwich he picked out for himself. The last time he sat down and had dinner properly like this was with the Winchesters at Christmas. He still finds the whole tradition of eating together quite daunting; whenever they ate together at Zachariah's house, it was always in silence, with nothing but a few glares being shared across the table. Eating with Jody feels _nice_ though, like they're just a normal family having some lunch together. He's never felt like he's belonged more before in his life.

"So, I've been thinking about schools," Jody says after a few minutes of small talk. "I know there's only a few months left before the summer, but I figured it would do you both some good to start as soon as possible. You kids need a dose of normality after all the crap you've been through."

Castiel stiffens, the last bite of his sandwich sliding thickly down his throat. He hasn't even thought about school; he just presumed that when he turned eighteen, he'd get a job and start from there. It makes sense for Anna to go back and finish the rest of her years like a normal student, but is there really any point for him? He's not even sure he knows _how_ to be a high school student anymore.

"The high school's right next to the middle school," Jody points out. "So you wouldn't have to worry about being on your lonesome. You two can help each other out."

"Me and Sammy go there too," Dean slaps him on the arm. "This is awesome, man! You and me goin' to the same school… We can run for best class couple and shit like that."

Castiel huffs a laugh, the adorability of Dean's excitement easing his nerves somewhat.

"I-I didn't know I was going back," He admits with a shrug. "I mean… Do I really need to? I finish school for good in just over four months' time."

Jody leans forward and rests her chin on her hands. "I'm not gonna force you to do anything you don't wanna do, Castiel. If you don't feel comfortable going back, we can have a word with your old school, see if we can't figure out a way for you to finish off your work from home. But if you wanna go to college in the fall, we should probably start looking around, don't you think?"

"College?" Castiel scoffs. "Oh, no, I… I-I'm not going to _college_."

"How come?" Dean's mouth turns down at the corners. "You're stupidly smart, Cas. You could do anythin' you wanna do. Even _I'm_ goin' to college."

"You are?"

"Well, I'm takin' a year off first. I'm gonna help dad out at the garage for a bit and save some money… I don't wanna go unprepared, ya know? But I wanna be a teacher, so yeah… Gotta go to college."

Castiel tilts his head to side. "Why haven't you told me this before?"

"It's just never came up, I guess."

"But I want to know these things about you," He takes Dean's hand and kisses his knuckles, not giving a damn whether Jody and Anna are watching them or not. "I know these past few weeks have all been about me… You're probably sick of it by now. But your future is just as important as mine, Dean; I _want_ to hear about it. I think you'll make a wonderful teacher."

Dean gives him a lopsided smile and ducks his head. "You could come with me, ya know?"

"Dean, I… I really don't think I could."

"Why not?"

"I have no idea what I want to pursue as a career," He shrugs helplessly. "My whole life has revolved around looking after Anna and trying to please my uncle - _not_ that I'm complaining, I just… I don't even know what I like. I've never got the chance to figure it out."

Jody touches his wrist, prompting him to look her way.

"This is what I think," She says with a smile. "If you both go back to school within the next month, I'm sure you'll fall back into step. Don't stress out about your grades too much, just focus on finding a platform. Maybe you can join some last minute clubs, even find yourself some hobbies. These next four months are gonna fly by, but that doesn't mean it's over just yet. You've still got time to figure things out for yourself, Castiel. Don't throw that away 'cause you're scared, or you don't think you're good enough… You're a smart kid, just like Dean said, and you _can_ do this. I'm not gonna let the things that happened to you in the past hold you back from the amazing things you could do in the future."

Castiel sucks in a breath. "Do you really think I could do it?"

"I sure do."

"You can take a year off with me," Dean suggests. "We could do it together, Cas."

Castiel looks around the table - at his boyfriend, who loves and supports him no matter what, at Jody, the woman who wanted him when no one else did, and at his sister, the little girl who's been looking up to him for as long as he can remember - and in that moment, everything seems to slot into place. All the petty fears and paranoia he's been harbouring for so long simply fizzle away, and the future suddenly looks bright. He's got a home and a family who loves him, and nothing can ever take that away from him, not as long as he gives himself the opportunity to move on and finally accept their love without looking back.

"Okay," Castiel smiles hesitantly. "You're right… School will be good for me. And maybe, I don't know… Maybe I'll change my mind about college as well."

Dean hooks an arm around his shoulders and pulls him against his chest, grinning as he buries a kiss in the top of his hair. "You're gonna knock their socks off, baby. You're gonna make those sorry sons of bitches wish they'd never laid a finger on you."

"I doubt I'll achieve anything extraordinary in my life."

"Shaddup, you idiot. You could land a job as a frickin' _meter maid_ and I'd still be proud of you."

Castiel chuckles. "I'm pretty sure that's not the correct term, but thank you."

"Seriously, Cas… Whatever the hell you decide to do with your life, you're gonna make this world a better place. I can just feel it."

He's trapped in the soft glow of pride in Dean's eyes, heart fluttering in his chest, until Anna finally clears her throat and snaps them out of it. There's still a goofy smile on his face when he tears his eyes away from Dean, but he somehow manages to stop himself from pouncing on the other boy in public. Even when he's being unfairly cute with all his sappy compliments, Castiel would prefer to strip him naked and praise every inch of his body when they're alone, preferably without his sister sitting right next to them.

"So, you want me to ring the school?" Jody asks.

Castiel squeezes Dean's hand and grins. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

* * *

When they pull up in the Opal Grove parking lot, the sight of the police car sitting outside the front doors makes his blood run cold. He instantly reaches for Dean's hand (maybe not the best idea when he's driving, but he can't really control himself when he's nervous). At least they dropped Anna off at the Winchesters' a few minutes ago; he wouldn't want to subject his sister to whatever comes next.

"Why are they here?" He whispers.

Dean turns off the ignition and takes his other hand. "Hey, hey, hey… Stop panicking. I'm sure it's just a routine call or somethin'."

"But I thought this was over? I thought the police would stop coming around now."

"It _is_ over, baby. Those bastards are gonna be locked up for a long time, don't you worry about that."

"They haven't even been _charged_ yet, Dean!"

"No jury's gonna let them go free."

"How do you know?"

"The system's fucked up, but it's not _that_ stupid… They're gonna get what's comin' to them."

Castiel clenches his jaw, forcing himself to calm down and stop asking questions. He knows Dean's right; there's far too much evidence for Lilith and his uncle to get away with it, but still… Just thinking about them sends a shiver down his spine. Even when he's old, and these past few months are nothing but a fading memory, he's sure those monsters will still be alive in his nightmares. He'll never truly be over what they did to him, and even the slight chance that they could get away with it makes him want to curl up and cry.

"C'mon," Dean slowly opens his door. "Let's go see what they want."

There are two officers waiting in the foyer, with Bobby hovering in the background. From the stoic looks on their faces, Castiel has no idea whether their news is good or bad. He doesn't give them a chance to explain though; he's opening his mouth before he's even walked through the door.

"I'm not going to testify," He says with adamance. "And I refuse to speak to either of them. I don't care if it doesn't help my case… I don't want anything to do with it anymore!"

Dean grabs his arm and gently pulls him back. "They're not gonna make you do anything like that, Cas. You've already said you're done."

"Then why are they even here?" He cries. "Why can't they leave me alone?!"

"I think you've misunderstood the situation," One of the officers says. "We're not here to ask anything of you, Mr. Novak. We're just here to give you a brief update on your uncle's case. I understand you've asked to be kept apart from all of this, but I think you're going to like what we have to say."

Castiel narrows his eyes. "What's happened?"

"Zachariah Milton pleaded guilty yesterday afternoon. He's admitted to all of his accused crimes, and he doesn't wish to drag this out for any longer than it has to be."

"What?" Dean's eyes go wide. "Wait, are you serious?"

"Absolutely."

"So he's goin' to jail?"

"That was most definitely going to happen anyway, but yes… He will be going to jail."

Dean scrubs a hand over his face, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. Castiel half expects him to start crying when he pulls him in for a hug, but instead he just laughs. Everything feels numb as he clings onto Dean's sleeve and breathes in the heady scent of his leather jacket, desperately trying to keep himself grounded in case he slips away and does something crazy. None of this feels real just yet; he doesn't know whether he wants to leap for joy, or punch a brick wall. He should probably be happy, but the dizzying sense of disbelief seems to be clouding his judgement. If he doesn't get some answers right now, he might just collapse.

"How… How long will he be… I-I mean, what exactly was he charged with?"

"Felony child abuse and section 1 kidnapping. He's potentially saved himself some time by fessing up, but he's still looking at at least ten years behind bars, probably closer to twenty."

Castiel swallows roughly. "And Lilith?"

"Miss. White's crimes range from multiple counts of abuse, to holding a minor hostage, to first degree murder… No doubt she'll spend the rest of her life in jail. We've also arrested eight people involved with the crime, all of them found to be working for Lilith White at some point in the past or present. As for your aunt… As soon as we find her, she'll most likely receive up to five years for assisting a kidnapping."

Castiel feels his knees go weak, his hands clutching at Dean's jacket even tighter to keep himself from sinking to the ground. He can't believe this is happening, that Zachariah actually did the decent thing and confessed. Perhaps it was just a way of shaving time off his sentence, but who cares? At least he won't have to spend the next few months constantly worrying about whether or not the jury will take his side and send them to jail. He can actually focus on his new life now, without the past weighing him down.

"Are you telling me it's over?"

"There'll still be a court hearing at the end of the month, but with your uncle's confession, and the overwhelming evidence, it's pretty much an open and shut case."

Castiel doesn't know how to respond to that; all he can do is turn into Dean's arms and bury his face in his chest, completely engulfing himself in his warm embrace. It's like there's been this buzzing in the back of his head for weeks, and now someone's finally turned it off. He can finally hear himself think again, can feel the steady beating of Dean's heart against his own. All the people who tried to hurt him are gone, and the ones who love him are all that's left. No more hiding from violent fists, no more struggling to keep himself afloat, no more fighting for the simple right to be himself… After almost ten years of cruel, unforgiving pain, he's finally free.

"Thank you," He manages to croak out. "Thank you so much."

The officer smiles and extends his hand, nodding his head respectively as Castiel shakes it. "We're just happy to deliver the good news. You can get on with the rest of your life now."

"No more police calls?"

"It's entirely your choice whether or not you stay in contact with your uncle, which I'm guessing you won't… Mr. Milton is going to spend the next ten years paying for what he did, and that's all that matters. There's no reason for us to involve you any further in this case."

Castiel squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a deep sigh of relief as he sinks back against Dean's chest.

"It's over," He chuckles giddily. "It's really over."

The officer shares a look of satisfaction with his partner, then tips his head. "That's right, son. You can put all of this behind you now."

"I really do appreciate you coming here."

"Well, we're just the messengers, but you're welcome all the same. It's not every day the guilty get what they deserve, so thank you for staying so strong throughout all of this. If you hadn't have made that phone call, God only knows what would've happened to all of those kids that Miss. White was keeping hostage."

"Don't thank me. That was all up to Dorothy… She's the one who saved us."

They shake hands once more, then say their goodbyes. Watching them drive off is like turning a new page, the next chapter of his life slowly fading into view. The soothing grip of Dean's fingers curling around his shoulders, his lips pressing feather light kisses against the nape of his neck, makes all of this seem even more real. Lilith and Zachariah are going to be in jail for a very long time, and him and Dean can finally do this - openly act like a normal couple - without having to feel ashamed. His cheeks hurt from smiling as he leans back and captures his lips properly, letting the lingering taste of Jody's chicken sandwiches remind him once again how good he's now got it. No more worrying about the what ifs of Zachariah's case, and constantly wondering when all of this is going to crumble away. He finally believes in happy endings now; all he had to do was conquer the pain instead of hiding away from it, and at last embrace the love of those around him. The worst is finally over, and now it's time for his new life to begin.

* * *

The next few days fly by, and he soon finds himself packing his bags with Dean's help and preparing for the move to Jody's house. It's a bittersweet moment, standing in his room at Opal Grove for perhaps the last time, but he feels confident that everything's going to work out. He'll only be a short car ride away, so visiting his friends shouldn't be too difficult. He's done with panicking now; ever since hearing the news of Zachariah's confession, the pain of what happened has slowly started to fade. He's finally allowing himself to be happy with the second chance he's been given - no more moping about and feeling sorry for himself! From now on, he's just a normal teenage boy trying to find his place in the word, and that's exactly the way it's supposed to be.

"You good?" Dean asks from the opposite side of the bed, his hands busy folding clothes into a suitcase. "You sorta blanked out for a sec there…"

Castiel waves him off with a smile. "I'm fine, Dean. Just a little overwhelmed."

"You wanna sit down for a bit?"

"Stop babying me. You heard what the doctors said this morning; I've practically recovered already."

"Yeah, _practically_ bein' the operative word."

Castiel chuckles. "You worry too much. I promise you, I'm okay."

"Right, well… We're takin' a break in ten."

"Whatever you say, doc."

Dean huffs a laugh and goes back to folding the shirt in his hands. Castiel watches his thick fingers work deftly, smoothing out the creases and laying it flat on top of the pile. He remembers Dean telling him how his dad used to be a marine, so keeping things neat and tidy is probably second nature to him. It's a stark contrast to the messy, playful boy he's come to love, but seeing a different side to him is intriguing. There's still so much about him that he doesn't know, and he can't wait to spend the rest of his life unearthing every last detail.

"Check this out," Dean calls him over, his back turned as he rifles through one of the drawers. "You remember those diaries my mom gave you ages ago? Well, guess what I just found…"

Castiel stumbles across the room, almost tripping over a pair of shoes sticking out from under the bed, and reaches over Dean's shoulder for the diaries. He's instantly struck with a wave of emotions, the memories of his first few weeks at Opal Grove hitting him hard. He was such a jerk when Mary gave him these, but she never stopped trying to help him. In a way, these diaries are a symbol of the first time someone ever had faith in him.

He can't stop the tears from welling in his eyes as he dusts off one of the covers and flicks through the pages, running a hand over the old writing from a past version of himself he can barely recognise now. So much has changed since the day he pressed this book up against the wall outside Mary's office and scribbled the first entry inside. He's a different person now, but maybe he wouldn't be if it wasn't for this diary. It may seem like a stretch, sure, but maybe Mary was right when she said these journals could help; whether he realized it then or not, accepting this diary was his first step in letting people in, and finally seeking the help he really needed.

"Wow," Castiel laughs when he turns to a page he distinctly remembers. "Do you have a pen?"

Dean frowns. "I thought you carried pens in your pockets?"

"I'm allowed to be a little less efficient when I'm in the process of _moving_ , Dean."

"Alright, alright… Uh, here," Dean hands him a stubby little pencil from his back pocket. "What're you doin' anyway?"

"Just making some amendments."

He puts the diary on top of the drawers and leans over it, purposely blocking Dean's view with his elbow just to annoy him. When he wrote this list all those months ago, his perceptions were misinformed; he was shallow enough to assume that he knew everything about his fellow residents at Opal Grove from just a quick peek. But he's done with poorly judging people based on petty little assumptions. To shun someone simply because you don't agree with the way they live their life is mindless, ignorant, and cruel. If being punished for falling in love with a boy has taught him anything, it's exactly that.

"There," He stabs the bottom of the page with a satisfied nod of his head. "That's better."

"What d'you put?"

Castiel smiles down at the edited list, eyes lingering on the last line as Dean cranes his neck to take a look. He doesn't let him though; as much as trusts Dean, he knows that Mary gave him these diaries for a personal reason, to record his own thoughts and feelings without worrying about the repercussions. He's not embarrassed or insecure about the things he wrote, but there's something appealing about having a secret all for himself. Maybe he'll keep this very page locked away for the rest of his life, just to preserve its intimacy.

 _ **My Surrogate Family**_

 _Kevin - Collects dust and garbage. Makes things. Glue sculptures. Quiet. Friendly._ _Going home in a month_ _. Has a mom._ _Scared of Lucifer._ ** _Lives with his mom. Staying in contact. VERY SMART._**

 _Charlie - Obsessed with movies. Marvel, not DC_ ** _(except for Batman)._** _Talks a lot. Happy all the time. Likes girls._ _Likes_ ** _Loves_** _Jo. Loves Hermione Granger. Slept with Meg (_ _best sex of her life_ ** _second best?_** _). LARPing?_ ** _\- It's a 'nerd thing' according to Gabe. Charlie has invited me to join her one day._** ** _NO CHOICE IN THE MATTER. One of my best friends._**

 _Gabriel - Gabe for short. Likes to touch. Sweet tooth. INAPPROPRIATE. Compulsive liar._ _Wants to make_ ** _insists on making_** _the cake at my wedding._ ** _Tends to flirt with his friends' younger siblings. Kind and understanding beneath all the bravado. Like a brother to me._**

 _Meg -_ _AVOID AT ALL COSTS._ ** _She's really not that bad. A surprisingly good kisser for a girl._**

 _Garth - Talks to himself. Hugs a lot. Voices?_ ** _\- The voices are his 'friends from the other side'. Don't ask questions. Very kind. A little dopey. Likes sock puppets._**

 _Michael -_ _Sleeping with Jo. Sleeping with Meg. Sleeping with a lot of people_ _._ ** _Currently sleeping with Ruby._** _Swears a lots_ ** _(has tourettes). Assbutt. Plain and simple. But his mom is very kind, so who knows what might have happened to him?_**

 _Ruby - Bad relationship. DON'T TALK TO HER._ _Mean._ ** _More like antisocial. Not to blame for her troubled past. An 'okay' conversationalist after consuming copious amounts of alcohol._**

 _Luke -_ _AKA Lucifer. Cruel. Spiteful. Doesn't smile. Doesn't talk._ _Smiley face mug._ ** _Closet hugger. MY BIG BROTHER._**

 _Bobby -_ _The warden_ ** _Like a father to me._**

 _Mary -_ _My counsellor._ _Dean's mom._ ** _Future mother in law? I guess we'll find out…_**

 _Dean Winchester - Makes me very happy._

Well, that last one doesn't really need to be changed, does it?

"You're not gonna give me a peek?" Dean whines, playfully grabbing his waist in an effort to reach for the list. "Were you talkin' crap about me or somethin'? 'cause I can take it!"

Castiel closes the diary and chuckles, turning around to plant Dean' hands on his hips. He leans up on his tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss against his boyfriend's lips, and closes his eyes. He loves the feeling of Dean's fingers squeezing his flesh, his breath fluttering against his forehead. He loves everything about this boy, but that still doesn't mean he's going to show him the list. You may think he's overreacting - making such a fuss over nothing but a few short descriptions of the people he's come to know at Opal Grove - but it's more than that; this list is a shining example of how much he's changed in the past few months, how the _people_ here have changed him. He's not sure how to explain it, but he feels like writing this, without the ability to say it out loud, is the only way he can really thank them. He'll keep this list for the rest of his life, as a reminder of how he got to this point, and who helped him get there in the first place - even if it wasn't always their kindness that propelled him forward.

"I love you," He says, fiddling with the zip of Dean's jacket with a sigh. "But can I maybe just keep this to myself?"

Dean smiles softly and brushes the hair out of his face. "Sure, Cas."

Castiel kisses him once more, then goes back to putting the rest of his stuff into his suitcase. It only takes a few more minutes, and everything is done. The room seems unnaturally bare (even though he didn't do much decorating anyway) and there's a strange sense of finality hanging in the air. All of his possessions fit into one suitcase. The rest of his things are back at Zachariah's house, but he's not sure he wants to reclaim anything connected to that place, not after what his uncle did to him. He's never been too attached to material objects anyway; all he needs is clean clothes and couple of books to keep him satisfied.

"We done?"

"I think so," He wipes his sweaty palms across the backs of his legs and sighs. "I can believe this is actually happening, Dean… I mean, I _can_ , but… It's all so surreal."

Dean takes his hand. "You nervous about going to Jody's? 'cause, ya know… you can tell me if you are. I'm not gonna say anything."

"I guess I am a little nervous," He shrugs. "But I'm mostly excited."

"Yeah?"

"This is the start of my new life… I know the change might be intimidating at first, but I'll get used to it. I _know_ things are going to work out. I just have a feeling."

"And your parents?" Dean takes his other hand and slowly swings their arms from side to side, clearly trying to keep him calm as he approaches the subject. "Have you thought about what you're gonna do? I mean, about visiting and stuff… You're gonna be eighteen soon, Cas. It's your decision to make."

Castiel huffs. "If my parents ever decide that they want to rekindle some kind of relationship with me, well… I'm not going to push them away. But I'm not going to actively seek them out either. I'm done with clinging onto the past."

"I think's that a good call."

"You do?"

"Mhm," Dean looks down at his feet and shrugs. "I… I'm gonna be honest with you, Cas… I didn't want you to get back in contact with them. I know that probably sounds bad, like I'm tryin' to keep you all to myself or somethin', but… It's not like that. I just don't want that bastard family hurting you ever again, 'cause you don't deserve that, Cas. You just… You're so _good_ , ya know? You're so fuckin' perfect, and the last thing you need is those worthless dicks draggin' you down. You're so much better than them, and you don't even realize it."

Castiel cups one side of his face, tilting his chin upwards, and smiles. "Did you think I'd be mad at you for telling me this?"

"I dunno… I just don't want you thinkin' I'm trying to get too involved or somethin'."

"You can never be 'too involved', Dean. You're my family - more than my own flesh and blood - and you have every right to voice your opinion. Everything you've done for me, I… I don't even know what to say. You've just made all of this so much easier to deal with, and I can never begin to tell you how grateful I am."

"You don't need to thank me, Cas."

"And _you_ don't need to keep tiptoeing around me like this," Castiel flits his eyes over Dean's face, admiring the golden glow of his skin from the afternoon sunshine streaming through the window. "I don't want things to change between us, Dean. Even if you go to college without me, or I one day _do_ decide to find my parents again… I don't want us growing apart."

"That's never gonna happen."

"You promise?"

Dean slides his hands up Castiel's body, lightly touching the small of his back. "If you don't wanna go to college, and we end up livin' miles apart for a few years, I'm _still_ gonna come back to you, Cas. I don't give a fuck how sappy that sounds, 'cause I mean it. I really do, baby. I'm never gonna leave you, remember? I already made that promise a long time ago."

Castiel grins. "You _do_ sound rather sappy right now."

"Shaddup…"

"No, no! I like it. It's nice, it's… I like it when you tell me things. I don't want us to be the kind of couple who keeps secrets all the time."

"Oh, like your mysterious note?"

Castiel chuckles. "You're extremely persistent, I'll give you that."

"Are you boys comin' or not?!" Bobby suddenly calls from outside, making them both jump. "The barbeques startin' now, so you better get yer asses down here!"

Dean snorts. "Ah, Bobby… Such a charmer."

"Right," Castiel shakes his head fondly, slipping the diary into his rucksack and slinging it over his shoulder. He doesn't get a chance to grab the suitcase though; Dean has already snatched it out of his reach with a warning wave of his finger.

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen… I don't give a shit what the doctors said. There's no way in hell I'm lettin' you carry a frickin' suitcase yet."

"Should I even bother arguing?"

"Nope," Dean smirks, marching out into the corridor as Castiel stands there dumbly. "Now, c'mon! Let's get a move on."

He takes a moment to look around the room once more, soaking in all the small details that remind him of his time at Opal Grove - the floor where he and his friends used to spread out and eat snacks, the window where Dean fell and hurt his elbow, the bathroom where Bobby once found him shaking and covered in blood, the bed where Dean first made love to him… He may have only spent a few months in this place, but it's been the best time of his life. In many ways, Opal Grove is and always will be his home. No matter where he ends up in the future, a part of him will always belong to this room, to this house, to these _people_.

But maybe that's okay. Maybe letting go of the past isn't always necessary. Maybe he wants to belong here, even when he's old and grey and all but forgotten these four walls… Maybe he won't ever be able to disconnect himself from the scared little boy who hid from his uncle, or the untrusting teenager who used to hurt himself just to feel something. He can keep running for a long as he likes, but the truth will always remain the same; his childhood sucked, his family despised him, and so many years of his life were stolen by hatred. But he refuses to let that define him as a person. Inside this room, he learnt what it meant to love, to trust, to _feel_. And why should he turn his back on that?

For the first time in years, he's no longer ashamed. He's done with blaming himself for the things that happened to him and his sister, and he's done with wasting his tears on the monsters who hurt him. It's finally time to lift his head high and be proud of who he is. A brother, a boyfriend, a son, a _person_. Not someone's punching bag. Not a piece of meat. Not a dirty faggot with sinful desires. _Castiel Novak_ \- nothing more, nothing less.

* * *

The barbeque is set up behind Opal Grove, on the stretch of grass running towards the woods. As soon as they step outside, the gentle warmth of the sun caresses his cheeks, putting a smile on his face as he and Dean stumble over to the waiting crowd. Balthazar spots them first, raising his glass above his head and letting out a cheer. Castiel can't help but blush as everyone starts clapping at the sight of him; he knows the party is being held for him, but it stills feels strange to have so many people whistling and calling his name, like he's about to break out into song or something. He's never felt comfortable with being the centre of attention.

"You've got this," Dean whispers and presses a kiss above his ear. "Don't start panicking… Just enjoy it, okay?"

Castiel swallows thickly, then nods. "You're right. I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes. This is a party… I just need to have fun."

"Atta boy."

Once they've entered the circle of people standing around the barbeque, Bobby takes off his cap and scratches the top of his head. It's a sure sign that he's about to say something sentimental; Bobby rarely talks openly about his emotions, which is why he gets so nervous about making speeches like this. It's something Castiel can relate to.

"Before we start dishin' up, I'd just like to say a few words about our boy, Castiel, here," Bobby clears his throat, eyes briefly scanning the crowd before landing on him and Dean. "As you probably know, Castiel came to us not too long ago. I'm not gonna discuss the details of why his uncle brought him here, but let's just say, he was in a bad place. I didn't know what to make of him at first. He was a strange kid - quiet, kept to himself. I always thought there was somethin' a little funny about him, if I'm bein' honest, but I always liked him as well. Couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I had a feelin' he was gonna bring some changes to this old place.

I was the first one who noticed somethin' goin' on between him 'n Dean. I made 'em burgers once, and dear lord… They wouldn't stop givin' each other googly eyes the entire time I was there. But lookin' back, I had no idea how far they'd come. I've known Dean since he was waddlin' around in diapers, so I like to think we're close. Same goes for Castiel. God knows when or why it happened, but at some point down the line, I started to see this gangly teen who never spoke a damn word as one of my own… My _son_. So to watch these two boys fall in love, well… I consider myself one hell of a lucky guy.

But it ain't just the romance that got to me. When Castiel first arrived, he was bitter, full of anger 'n mistrust. For a short while, I thought we'd never get through to him. But then I started seein' some changes - nothin' major, but that didn't matter. Before my very eyes, I saw this boy grow into a man. He came outta his shell, learnt to trust us. Hell, they even managed to drag him to a damn party at one point! It was like watchin' a different kid altogether. And I dunno why, but that really just _got_ to me.

I've been in this line of business for almost two decades now, 'n never have I seen so much progress in such a short space of time. It was a miracle, I'll tell you that. Yer uncle brought you here, dropped you off like a sack of trash, 'n never looked back. Not until he saw how much you'd changed. Ya see, I think he was scared… He was messin' his pants at the very idea that the boy he'd beat and put down for so long had finally found his legs. But the last thing he ever expected was the people who love 'n care about him to come to his rescue.

Ya see, Castiel's affected a lotta people here. Hell, I know he's taught _me_ a thing or two. I ain't ever seen a kid with such strength before. I've watched him carry the weight of the world on his shoulders without breakin' a sweat these past few months, 'n I can't even tell ya how proud I am. In every way that counts, Castiel is my son, 'n seein' him struggle like that… It's been hard. But I never doubted for one second that he'd get through it, 'cause that's just the way he is. Tough as nails. And bein' his carer for all this time, it's been an honour. I feel privileged to have known this boy, 'n to have watched him turn into the man he is today.

So, thank you, Castiel, for givin' me the pleasure of lookin' after you. This place ain't ever gonna be the same without you 'n your Scooby gang creepin' about, but at least we won't be forgettin' you anytime soon. So, um… To Castiel!"

All around them, people cheer and clap and thrust their glasses into the air. Castiel doesn't even realize he's been crying until Dean wipes a tear away from his cheek. He made a promise with himself to cut back on all this crying nonsense, but apparently it's the price that comes with feeling real emotions for once. He's never had someone give him a big speech like that, in front of so many people. It's just a little overwhelming to say the least.

"That was beautiful," Gabe sniffs as Bobby re-enters the circle. "Just beautiful. Did you write that yourself?"

"Shut up, ya damn idjit."

"That's more like it," Dean chuckles. "You had me worried for a moment there, Bobby. I thought you'd actually grown a heart."

"You kids go enjoy the party before I put yer heads on the barbeque."

"Speaking of the barbeque," Dean rubs his hands together. "I'm gonna go grab us some grub, okay?"

Castiel snorts at the bright-eyed look of excitement on his boyfriend's face. It's strangely endearing how the mere mention of food can lift his spirits like that. He doesn't even get the chance to respond before Dean is rushing towards the barbeque, desperately trying to butt into the line (much to the annoyance of Michael, who gives him a very colourful lecture on how strongly he hates this place and all the people in it). Castiel just shakes his head and goes back to making small talk with some of his friends. It's weird that he won't be seeing Charlie and Gabe every morning as usual, but missing Kevin and Jo eventually became easier, so he's sure he'll learn to cope. Plus, he'll try and visit as much as possible.

Speaking of Kevin and Jo, so much has happened to them while they've been gone. Apparently Kevin was accepted into a prestigious engineering college a year early, so he'll be leaving for six years in the fall. Castiel doesn't know how to take the news at first; although it's sad to think they probably won't see each other in person for quite a while after this summer, he's also immensely proud of him. He always knew that Kevin was destined for something like that, what with all the talent he has. And as for Jo, she's been working with her mom at The Roadhouse since Christmas, but she's now thinking of going back to school. Castiel can't wait to see the look on Dean's face when he finds out his best friend might be coming back; he knows how hard it was for him when she left, so he's hoping they'll be able to mend their friendship now. Who knows? He might even end up in classes with both of them.

By the time Dean finds him again, with two gigantic burgers in his hands, Jo is setting up a mic at the opposite end of the barbeque. Her new guitar is hanging around her shoulder, and her eyes are closed as she silently mouths the words to a song she probably wrote.

"This is huge," Castiel frowns at the burger in Dean's hand. "I don't think I'll be able to fit it in my mouth."

"You've handled bigger before."

"I deeply regret saying those words now."

"Well, you are kinda makin' it easy for me," Dean waggles his eyebrows, then gestures over at Jo. "What's goin' on here?"

"I think she's about to sing."

"It's for you," Charlie says with a grin. "She wrote it a few weeks ago. It's _awesome_ , I swear!"

"She… She wrote a song for me? Why?"

The sound of Jo tapping on the mic suddenly rings through the crowd, bringing all conversations to a stop. Jo doesn't even seem nervous as she cracks her knuckles and smiles at the dozens of eyes now watching her closely.

"This is dedicated to my friend, Cas," She spots him standing next to Charlie and Dean, and waves her hand in the air. "Hey, guys!"

And without further ado, she starts to sing. It's nothing like the dark, angst-filled songs she used to force Castiel to listen to when he first arrived at Opal Grove; the melody is sweet and gentle, perfectly matching the soft glow of the sun above. All he can do is stare with his mouth hanging open as Jo sings her heart out, the words describing a bird with broken wings slowly healing and learning to fly again. It's so in tune with his own experience, without being overly morbid as Jo usually is, that he almost feels like he knows the song already. The music plays in rhythm with his heart, making his skin tingle as Jo hits the final chorus and ends the song on a soft, drawn out note that gradually fades into silence.

The entire crowd breaks into applause the moment she's finished, but Castiel's pretty sure he's clapping louder than anyone.

"Thanks," Jo says a little breathlessly, a toothy grin splitting her face. "I'd just like to thank Luke for this awesome guitar, by the way! Cas told me you were the one who really fixed it, so… Thanks, man. It really means a lot."

Castiel finds his brother smiling awkwardly by the barbeque, clearly uncomfortable with the unexpected praise. He's standing next to Jody, who's holding a fish bowl in her hands. He assumes it's Bubbles; Anna told him the Winchesters were going to drop him off at the party so they could take him with them to Jody's house.

"Nice job," Gabe snickers as Jo makes her way over to them. "I never knew you had that kind of gooiness in you, Harvelle."

Charlie pulls Jo in by the waist and kisses her cheek. "You write songs for me all the time, don't you, babe?"

"Aw, that's cute!"

"Screw you," Jo grumbles, a light blush creeping up her neck. "I'm still hardcore."

Castiel chuckles and gives her a quick hug. "That was amazing, Jo. I… I don't even know what to say. You didn't have to do that, it was -"

"Oh, shut up. You deserved it, Cas."

"But, really. _Thank you_."

"No problem," She shrugs it off, but she's clearly pleased with the compliment. "I think your brother wants to talk to you though. He keeps looking over here."

Castiel catches Luke's eye, then smiles. "I'll be right back."

"I've got good news," Luke grins as Castiel joins him and Jody by the barbeque. "Guess who just offered me a maintenance job at Opal Grove?"

Castiel gasps. "What? _Here_?" I don't -"

"Bobby found my little stash of tools in my bedroom. I thought he was gonna go ballistic, but he was actually impressed. He asked me if I knew anything about tools, I told him I'd done a few odd jobs here and there while on the road, and that was that. I start straight away."

"Wait. So you're… you're _not_ leaving? You're staying right here?"

"In the meantime, yes."

"I offered him a spot on my couch," Jody says. "But he refused. Apparently Bobby's gonna let him keep his room here for a little while."

Castiel puts a hand on Luke's shoulder and smiles. "I'm so happy for you, Luke. I thought… I thought maybe you'd move away to get a job, but I never thought you'd find one here."

"I guess the Warden just wants to keep us all together."

Jody huffs a laugh. "That sure sounds like Bobby, the ol' teddy bear. But seriously, Luke. If you ever need a place to stay, don't hesitate to ask. I don't give a rat's ass how old you are; you're Anna and Castiel's brother, which makes you one of my boys as well."

Luke seems a little taken aback by that, but he still smiles all the same. "I'll, um… I'll definitely bear that in mind, thanks."

"Hey," Dean suddenly pops up behind them. "Can I borrow Cas for a sec?"

Castiel's not sure why, but Dean seems unusually nervous right now. His hands are shaking, and there are tiny beads of sweat sticking to his forehead.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm good, I just… I need to show you something."

"Okay," Castiel reluctantly takes his hand. "Okay, let's go."

* * *

He stumbles blindly away from the barbeque with Dean's hands over his eyes, completely blocking out his sight. Dean insisted he wasn't allowed to take a look until he said so, and Castiel trusts him not to walk them both off a cliff, so here they are. He can hear the music from the party slowly drifting away the further they get, until all that's left is the sound of Dean's breath tickling the top of his hair.

"Okay. Hang on," Dean brings him to a stop. There's a banging noise, like someone opening the trunk of a car, and then Dean speaks again. "I'm gonna take my hands away in five, four, three, two, one…"

When the light finally returns, Castiel has to blink a few times to bring everything back into focus, and then his breath catches at what he sees. They're standing in front of the Impala, the car that Dean is obsessed with, and the trunk is wide open. It's what's inside that makes his heart stop though; at least fifteen cans of paint stacked on top of each other, creating a wall of white that seems to shine against the dark exterior of the car. He's not even sure what it means at first, but his stomach is in knots as he runs a hand over the cans, grinning at the bold words 'LEMON YELLOW' printed on the front of every one.

"I was lookin' at houses online," Dean starts to babble. "But I couldn't find any that were lemon yellow, so I figured we could paint it ourselves. We'll probably need way more than this, unless we end up livin' in some crappy bungalow, and I have no frickin' idea if paint has an expiration date, but I'm hopin' this'll hold up for a few years, and my dad said we could keep it at the garage until then, so I -"

"Dean," Castiel grabs him by the shoulders and laughs. "Just shut up and kiss me, will you?"

Their lips crash together with desperation. It's messy and uncoordinated, but Castiel loves every second of it. The feeling of Dean's teeth snagging on his bottom lip, the warmth of his tongue ghosting the roof of his mouth, the pressure of his fingers pressing bruising marks along his hipbones… It's all so perfect, it makes him want to cry again.

"You've really thought about this, haven't you?" He asks after they break apart, his words coming out a little breathlessly.

"Well, yeah," Dean frowns, like that's the most obvious thing in the world. "This isn't just some passing fling anymore, Cas… I mean, you're _it_ for me."

Castiel laughs again. He's not even sure why, but he does. He can't stop smiling and peppering Dean's face with kisses, can't help but grin like a maniac at the idea of him and Dean dressed in overalls, trying to paint a giant house with just fifteen cans of paint. All those things his uncle promised him he'd never have - a home, a family, someone who loves him for who he really is - aren't just a fantasy now. They're his _reality_.

"I love you," He mumbles against Dean's lips, down his neck, along his shoulders, across his collarbone. "I love you, I love you, I love you…"

"I love you too," Dean chuckles hysterically. "I love you so fuckin' much, Cas."

"We're going to be happy, Dean. We're going to buy the biggest house we can afford, and we're going to spend all day and night painting it lemon yellow. And when it's done, we're going to camp out beneath the stars and make love on the lawn, so all our new neighbours can see."

Dean grins even wider. "Ooh, _kinky_ …"

"I mean it, Dean. I want this so much, I can't even explain it."

"So do I. And we're _gonna_ have it."

"You really think so?"

"We got this far, didn't we?" Dean rests their foreheads together and smiles, his eyes shiny with unshed tears. "Nothing's in our way, Cas."

Before he can say anything else, Luke comes running down the steps of Opal Grove and waves them over. "You two need to come and see this! Bobby and John are singing karaoke, and it's godawful!"

Castiel threads his fingers through Dean's and laughs. Five years ago, if someone had told him this is where he'd be right now - holding hands with his boyfriend, talking to his brother, attending a party with all of his friends and family present - he would've scoffed in their face. But that's just the way things are now. Laughing and crying come naturally to him, and planning out a future that's no longer hypothetical is now the norm. Maybe things aren't perfect; he's still got a lot of issues to sort out, and the things he's experienced these past few months will probably never leave his mind, but at least he's happy. At least he has people who love him, and would do anything for him. At least he still _has_ a life to live.

"That definitely sounds interesting," He says, turning to Dean with a smirk. "Do you want to go see your father make a fool of himself?"

"As long as he doesn't strip, I'm cool."

And with that, they close the trunk of the Impala and head back to the party hand in hand. The sun slowly disappears behind the trees as they go, walking towards their new life together, and everything is as it should be.

 **~~~ THE END ~~~**


	31. Epilogue

**This is it! The very last thing I will ever write for this story! It's been an incredible writing experience, and I've loved every second of it. Thank you so much to all my wonderful readers - especially the ones who have taken the time to leave reviews along the way, always encouraging me to keep going and finish this story! It's been an amazing journey. I really hope you enjoy this quick snippet of domesticity, and that the fluff is satisfactory ;) Once again, thank you so much for reading! I would be more than grateful if you could leave one last review, just so I can hear your final thoughts and feedback. Now all that's left to say is... PEACE OUT, BITCHES! :)**

* * *

 **10 YEARS LATER**

"Ugh. How long does it take to paint a stupid house?"

Castiel looks over at his daughter, her blonde hair a comical shade of yellow as she wipes a streak of paint across her forehead. He can't help but laugh at the sour look on her face, and the way her tiny body is practically swimming in the old Pink Floyd shirt Dean leant her a few weeks ago.

"As long as it takes," He says with a smirk. "This is a _team_ effort, Claire. Everybody has to get involved."

"I don't see _you_ doing anything!"

"That's because I'm unpacking all of our stuff," He shakes the box of kitchenware in his hands to prove his point. "Or would you rather eat off paper plates for another week?"

Claire rolls her eyes. "Well, what about pops? He's been gone for like an hour!"

"You know he's picking up supplies for the party."

"How're we supposed to have a party when we barely have a _house_ yet?"

Castiel chuckles. "If you get back to work, we might just make it presentable before the guests arrive."

"Pfft… As if. I thought uncle Luke was gonna come and help?"

"He's on his way, don't worry."

"He only works down the road. How long does it take?"

"He needed to help Bobby out with a few things first. They're getting a new kid next week, but the spare room's not ready yet."

"So I've gotta paint this whole house by myself?"

"You've got your nan."

"But she's _old_."

"Hey," Jody peers around the front door with a pointed scowl in Claire's direction. "I may be gettin' on, but I can still hold a damn paint brush!"

The sound of tires crunching over the gravelled driveway turns his head, the sight of the Impala pulling up beside the house making his heart flutter. Even after all these years, seeing Dean never fails to put a goofy smile on his face.

"Sorry," Dean slams his door shut and walks around the car, dropping a quick kiss on Castiel's cheek by way of an apology. "I had to stop by the school on my way back."

"It's summer vacation," Claire wrinkles her nose. "Why the hell are you still working?"

"Had to pick up my new timetables for the fall," Dean ruffles the top of her hair, despite her many protests. "Guess who's in my third period English class?"

Claire groans. "Not again!"

"What? You embarrassed of your old man or somethin'?"

"D'you know what's it like to be taught by your own dad? It kinda sucks!"

"Hey, I'm an awesome teacher."

"Then dial it down with the homework, will ya? I'm sick of being bribed into making you extend the deadline every time."

"Take advantage, Claire Bear. Wring those suckers dry."

"You seriously need to stop calling me that... I'm _sixteen_ , pops!"

"Still my little girl."

"You adopted me two years ago. I was never little."

Castiel shoots her a glare. "What did I tell you about using that word? You know I hate it when you say that."

"I have two dads, okay? It's really no big secret."

"But still," He shrugs his shoulders, putting on his best sad-eyed puppy dog expression. "We're one big family, Claire. It upsets me when you isolate yourself like that."

"Okay, okay," She raises her hands in surrender. "Just stop looking at me like that."

"Works every time," Dean gives him a wink, slipping an arm around his waist. "So how's it goin', baby? You makin' any progress?"

"If you call Claire whining every five minutes _progress_ , then yes."

"Luke still comin'?"

"Mhm. Hopefully soon as well… Anna's flight gets in at two, and I really don't want her to see the place like this."

"Just 'cause she's some hotshot city worker, doesn't mean she's gonna give a crap how the house looks, Cas. She knows we've been workin' hard for weeks."

"I know," He sighs, leaning into Dean's side. "I just want to show it all off… I know it probably sounds stupid -"

"No," Dean brushes his lips against his cheek. "You've been obsessed with this house for over a year. You just want things to be perfect - no harm in that."

"I sound like such a superficial nutjob."

"Ah, shaddup. You know the last thing you are is superficial."

Castiel huffs a laugh, smiling at the way the sun bounces off the silver ring on Dean's finger. He remembers so clearly the day he stood at the front of the chapel with this man, holding his hand while all their friends and family cheered them on. When he slipped that ring onto his finger, he made a commitment to never leave his side, to never stop loving him as fiercely as he does in this very moment. Changing his name to Castiel Winchester is the best thing he's ever done (after adopting Claire of course). Some days he still forgets that he's married to this wonderful person, but then he sees the way those green eyes look at him - so soft and full of love - and everything comes rushing back. He truly is the luckiest man alive.

"So, what time's everyone comin'?"

"Around half five," Castiel scrubs a hand over his face. "I really don't think we're going to have this finished by then."

"So what? We can host the party in the back yard. No biggy!"

"But this is supposed to be a housewarming party, Dean. Aren't they supposed to actually _see_ the house?"

"You and your technicalities… It's gonna be fine, Cas."

"Yeah, you're probably right," He chuckles at his husband's prideful expression. "Oh, Gilda's bringing her new girlfriend around, by the way. She wants to introduce us."

"Girlfriend? Ain't that the first once since -"

"Dorothy, yes. _And_ since coming out to her parents."

"This is a big deal."

"Exactly. That's why I want you to make her feel at ease; none of your ridiculous jokes."

"Who, _me_?" Dean slaps a hand over his heart. "Shouldn't you be givin' _Gabe_ the grand warning about keepin' the conversation appropriate?"

"Oh, I'll be telling him as well, don't you worry."

Claire suddenly perks up at the mention of Gabe. "Please tell me he's bringing some snacks from the bakery!"

"This is Gabe we're talkin' about. He'll probably bring half the frickin' kitchen… Not that I'm complaining or anything."

"You two are unbelievable," Castiel shakes his head fondly. "He's only just started the business, and you're already expecting free food from him."

"Well, I mean, we are kinda like family."

"Speaking of family," Castiel turns back to face Dean. "Are you sure Sam and Eileen can still make it?"

"I told you: they found another sitter to watch the twins."

"But they must be exhausted -"

"They're comin', alright?" Dean takes him by the shoulders and chuckles. "You really need to calm down, man. It's gonna be fine."

Castiel lets out a deep breath, his shoulders sagging under the weight of Dean's hands. He can't help his need to know everything beforehand. If someone were to cancel last minute, he'd probably freak out. It's just the way he is; he's an extremely stressful person. Even when he was taking his DPT program three years ago, he almost buckled under the pressure and gave up. Thank God he had Dean there to support him, never giving up until he'd finally got his Physical Therapy licence and landed his dream job. Every time he helps someone overcome the crippling pain he once experienced himself, he always thinks back to Dean. Without his help and encouragement, he never would have had the guts to see it through.

"I hope Kevin makes it," He says with a sigh. "I know he's busy at the moment, what with his new job and everything… But I'd still like to see him. It's been almost two years."

"Well, that's what comes with bein' the leading engineer at some fancy company in Japan. The holidays suck ass."

"Yes, but he's very rich."

Dean crosses his arms and pouts. "Money ain't everything. There's more important things in life, ya know?"

"You're just jealous of his home cinema, aren't you?"

"Pfft… Whatever. Okay, maybe a little bit, but that's beside the point."

Castiel laughs. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. Balthazar got married again… Her name's Cindy, and she's twenty-five."

"Man, that guy's got some moves. I bet it's the sexy British accent."

"You're not planning on being his next life partner, are you?"

"Hey! I know I've got the best man in town," Dean presses a kiss against his temple and grins. "Plus, _no_ one can beat your skills in the sack."

Castiel blushes, but his dick still stirs at the feeling of Dean's hands slipping down his waist and resting on his ass. "Can you maybe keep your voice down when Claire is standing right over there?"

"You know you love it."

"Don't test me," Castiel desperately fights the smile tugging at his lips. "The last thing I need is my mind in the gutter… I really need to concentrate on getting this place ready."

"You're so hot when you get all serious like that."

"Stop it," Castiel chuckles despite himself. "You need to take those things into the kitchen before the freezer food melts."

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"And please tell me you remembered the champagne."

Dean grabs the bags from the trunk of the car, waving two bottles of bubbly in the air. "I'm a reliable guy, Cas. D'you really think I'd forget Jo and Charlie's engagement? Hell, Jo would probably punch me in the balls if I did…"

"That's true," Castiel puts the box of kitchenware onto the floor and takes Dean's hands, kissing him softly on the lips. "Thank you for remembering. And sorry for bossing you around so much… I must be getting on your nerves by now. I just want this place to feel like a home, and Charlie and Jo deserve the best toast I can give them, and I -"

"You're adorable," Dean cuts him off with a smirk. "And you're not gettin' on my nerves. I get it, Cas. You're stressed. Not that you need to be, 'cause everything's gonna be awesome."

Castiel sighs. "Why are you always so understanding?"

"That's what husbands are for - puttin' up with your crap on a regular basis."

"I love you," He smiles. "I really do."

"And I love you too. Even when you're covered in paint and givin' me a hard time," Dean cups his face and gives him a lopsided grin. "I'll always love you."

"COLONEL!"

They both jump at the sound of Claire screeching as the dog tackles her to the floor, leaving yellow-coloured paw prints all over her shirt as he slobbers her face with kisses. All Castiel can do is laugh while his daughter throws her paintbrush at Colonel's head and shoves him off. She might have something else to gripe about now, but at least that was funny to watch.

"Good boy, Colonel," Dean scratches him behind the ears with a snort. "I'll give you a treat if you do that again."

Castiel squeezes the bridge of his nose and chuckles. "You and that dog…"

"Told you it was the right choice to pick this one."

"Well, if you're not careful, it will be _your_ head getting the brunt of Claire's anger in a minute."

"Yeah, you're right. I better go seek refuge in the kitchen."

Dean places the bags on top of the kitchenware and hoists it onto his shoulder, grunting in a way that gets Castiel all hot under the collar. Watching his husband working those thickly toned arms in a sweaty shirt is admittedly quite enjoyable.

"I'll be back in bit, alright?"

"Okay," Castiel leans forward to capture his lips once more, smiling against the warm, stubbly feeling of Dean's mouth. "See you soon."

He watches him head back towards the house, grinning over his shoulder as he reaches the front door. Castiel falls a little bit more in love with him every time he smiles like that; it reminds him of the first time they met in that corridor, just two teenagers completely unware of what the next ten years would hold for them.

"You know what?" Dean shouts back to him, his green eyes twinkling in the sunlight. "I think we're gonna like it here!"


End file.
